


Good Evening, Mister Doe

by RommiCat



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bro Sniper, Character Death, Dad Engineer, Dad Soldier, Dyslexia, Loss of Identity, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Mann vs. Machine, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Poverty, Slow To Update, Soldier Does his Best, Squad how do tags work?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RommiCat/pseuds/RommiCat
Summary: After the death of Zhanna, Jane Doe, ex-soldier of RED industries, tries his very best to be the father his one and only daughter needs. Aptly named after something he holds dearest, America.





	1. Pink Shoes, with Nice, White Laces

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I wrote this a long time ago and even after letting it rot for a year in my storage, I still kind of like this story. Hopefully, it goes somewhere but, don't hold your breath. On the other side of the coin, I hope you like it enough to look forward to a new chapter.

December 16th, 1976

The ex-soldier at the funeral shed no tears. The overwhelming deja vu that came with the moment threw him in a haze. Setting his hand over the face of a small infant made it worse. It hit him hard, but no tears fell even then. It was like his mother’s funeral. He was his father at this moment. Holding his brother John, who hadn’t made it much longer. The grieving never seemed to cease for his father.

His father was weak, however. His mother was strong, his strength no doubts coming from her. His father was so weak. Resorting to substances and such Jane hadn’t understood then. No, he was as strong as Liberty herself. Jane loved his mother’s name. Liberty had fit her so well.

He glanced down, the sleeping child breathing softly. No, he wouldn’t name her Liberty. She would be even greater than his mother.

“America,” Jane muttered, looking up to see Zhanna’s coffin gone from sight. Russia wasn’t suitable for his child. Even with Misha. The large man was furious. He had already blamed him for his sister’s death. Not caring enough. Not making enough. Letting her hand get hacked off in the first place. Saying infection something. But Jane knew he cleaned it well. One didn’t get pneumonia from a severed hand.

Jane took a step back, the preacher comforting a sobbing mother and a passive brother, Misha’s face contorting every few second.

Another step back. He would leave. America wasn’t a Russian. A Commie.

Another and another. She would flourish in a land of great freedoms. She would rise and make him proud as Liberty did.

Jane swallowed. He couldn’t cry. Not for Zhanna. She’d laugh at him.

Turning away, Jane held his head high, his suit weighing him down as he marched away. America would be free, and smart, and go to school. He didn’t. Liberty didn’t.

America Doe didn’t have a ring to it, but Zhanna Doe didn’t either. That was fine.

Jane turned back to the small party of people, glancing to the small bundle in his arms.

“America, you will be the best woman this world has ever seen. That is an order,” Jane continued forward, ignoring the sharp honk of a car as the driver slammed on the breaks.

No more Russian winters. No more listening to loud yelling in a language he didn’t understand. No more failed reading practices. No more… Russian anything. He hated it here.

Now he could go home.

Jane kept up his pace, slowly increasing it as his pain grew. No more Zhanna. No more loud laughing as they ate with Misha and Hans. No whispers and kisses. No strong mother to care for a child that hadn’t been named for a month. No mother to care for her beyond that.

Jane could do it. That... that was an order as well.

 

October 14th, 1982

America, as in the country and not his daughter, favored Ronald Reagan, and he supposed he did too. He didn’t understand much, but he knew the president was to be respected.

Jane had worked odd jobs. The recession was making it harder to find said jobs, but he held them as long as he could. His uniform patches had fallen off, and his shirts were almost pink due to fading. He couldn’t get new ones yet. America needed new shoes. Something about the soles sliding and bunching under her feet. The traction was awful anyway. The winter just gave her cuts and bruises because the ice was too much against the flat bottoms.

But somehow, 6 years had gone by, and America looked like him. More womanly, however. Zhanna’s rounder face and her larger lips. Sharp, intelligent eyes. They said America had problems reading, and she would need a tutor.

It was bullshit, not that Jane would curse. He could hardly read at all! He did alright. She was smart without it.

He glanced at the phone number on the old, yellowed fridge. He could almost pay for one session. He wouldn’t get shirts though…

But America needed help reading.

But he would be out a job if he couldn’t dress in something without holes and stains.

Jane grunted, pulling the number down and smashing his fingers against the numbers of the telephone. Speak softly, Jane. And kindly. And don’t forget ‘Mister’. A 'pop-click' told him they picked up.

He spoke before they could finish inhaling. “I’m Mister Jane Doe. I’m calling to see about tutoring my child, America.”

“America? Oh! Yes! I was told about her!” The woman over the phone chittered excitedly. “Dyslexia, we think. I need to see her myself.”

He didn’t know what that meant but made a sound of agreement anyway. “I need a week to get the payment, but I would like to see if anyone is available then. As soon as I get it.”

“Of course Mister Doe,” The woman’s pen made a scratching sound. “How many sessions should we plan-”

“One.”

There was a pause. “Only one? We can’t really help her with only one session, Mister Doe.”

“Well, do your best then!” He grunted, sniffing loudly. “You’re a tutor. So teach!” The sour thought of her turning him down clouded his vision. “Sorry…” Jane cringed at how weak he sounded, but civilians didn’t like boot camp. They were weak and needed to be talked to in a similar manner.

The woman clicked her tongue, humming. “Mister Doe, may I ask you something?”

“Affir- Yes,” He nodded despite no one being able to see it.

The woman sighed. “Are you in poverty?”

Jane grunted, his voice unwilling to form a ‘yes’.

“Mister Doe, America’s teacher is very happy to help pay if you can’t.”

“I can!” He protested sharply. “Only once though!”

With a sigh, the woman’s pen scratched again. “One appointment, in one week, correct?”

“Affirmative! Or… Yes!” He held the phone tightly, peeling his gaze away from the 0 for the first time. He looked out the kitchen window, the sun sitting high in the sky. 0300. He needed to run if he was to get America from school. He would then need to do laundry. And then he would need to re-count the money he set aside for America’s shoes. Little pink ones, with white laces. She always stared at them when they would shop. He would get those. She’d be complimented for her cute, new shoes, and the other kids wouldn’t laugh at her for being poor. It would be perfect.

“-Doe? Mister Doe?”

“Yes!” He snapped to attention, fixing his gaze on the 0 again.

“It’s… It’s been confirmed.”

Jane took a small intake of breath. “Good. Great. Good.” He would clean. Something to take pride in.

“Goodbye, Mister Doe. Someone will see you in a w-”

He slammed the phone on the receiver. He didn’t need to listen to the goodbyes. He had to get America’s new shoes. She’d smile and look at him with those steely blue eyes and he’d be the greatest father ever.

Jane yanked his jacket from the peg it sat on, ignoring how it slipped on the single screw on the bottom, leaving it upside down for him to struggle with later. His boots were laced, his cap was on, and he was ready. Cramming the money in his pocket, Jane dashed out of the house. The door fell locked behind him, his legs pumping as he ran toward the school.

One street, two streets, three streets, four streets.

The houses slowly began to look nicer and cleaner as he ran, his mind struggling to stay on the numbers he’s counted. If he lost count, he would have to run home. It was a miracle he lived on the corner. 10 streets, 11 streets, turn right and follow the curvy road.

Jane kept running, his jacket flapping behind him. It was going to be chilly soon. America needed a new coat, her’s was getting too small. His shirts could wait. He was lifting heavy boxes, after all, he didn’t need to look good. Sometimes they would pay him extra for coming back after America had gone to bed. He’d work more hours, accepting his pay with a smile.

Yes, new shoes. Then he would set aside the money for the tutor. And as a surprise, he’d get America a new coat. A pink one with stars. He’d seen it on his way to work at the shipping plant. The stars were even covered in a glitter that would no doubt stick to his clothes and the dingy carpet in the house.

She would adore it.

Jane turned left as the curvy road came to an end, the school quite suddenly filling his vision. America sat on the stairs, other kids near, wicked grins on their faces. Her face was empty, however. She continued drawing in the mud to her right with a sharp stick. She was strong, just like Liberty.

Jane slid over some posh car’s hood, grinning broadly as America turned to face him. Her eyes grew wide and she smiled brighter than any firework. Every time. And he knew he was a good father because of it. No other child looked like she did.

Yanking his girl into his arms, Jane hoisted her up on his shoulders, grabbing her small legs to keep her there. Sandy blonde hair, in neat pigtails with thick buns on the top. He stood inside many hair salons until the workers caved and showed him how to do it. America always had her hair in buns, the pigtails only forming recently as her hair continued to grow. They reached her chubby jaw, but that was fine. She didn’t need a haircut if she didn’t want one. He would probably mess it up anyway. Her lopsided bangs spoke enough for his cutting skills. They swooped to the side in soft strands that never sat together. Girls could have long hair.

“Mister Doe!” Jane paused sharply, turning back and setting a scowl. Miss Faulkner was richer than him, and she hardly liked to let him forget.

“What?” Everyone was equal, except America, who was better. Miss Fuck-ner needed no respect, not that he would say that. There was a young lady on his shoulders. And it was impolite. Jane had very good manners.

Sometimes.

“Did you slide across my new car?” Her face twisted into a sneer, the door sitting wide open as she stared in rage. Her son sat in the back seat, waving to Jane with a pleased look. Jane waved back, turning back to the woman as she slammed her palm against the roof.

“Yes,” Jane sniffed. “So?”

“So? So, don’t you think it’s disrespectful?” She hissed loudly.

Jane made a face. “No!” Without another word, he continued forward, stepping onto the hood and trotting across it. He tightened his grip on America’s legs, jumping down and marching forward. Always look proud. Always keep your head up. America would do the same then. She didn't understand them. She didn't really need to either. America would be proud of herself, and he would make sure she would know exactly how to be so!

He ignored the distressed yowling behind him, relaxing his grip as his daughter leaned onto the top of his head, her hair sliding down and tickling the skin just under the hat’s edges.

“How was school, America?”

“I learned how to count to 20 today.”

He made a humming noise. “Who’s on the 20 dollar bill?”

“Andrew Jackson.”

Jane felt pride bloom. “And what president was he?”

“Six!”

“Seven.” Jane corrected, listening to the faint whisper of her repeating it.

“What did he do?” America asked softly, her small fingers tugging lightly on his ears.

Jane retold the controversy around the man, with the finances he couldn’t quite understand and the civil discourse. America hummed every now and then as he prattled on, trying to recall what he knew. He hadn’t done a lot of reading before, but some days it was hard to remember.

“Dad?”

Jane wished he could see her. “Hmm?”

“Are you sick?”

Jane’s strong steps faltered. “No.”

“My teacher said you are. Mister Sullivan.” America frowned bitterly. “He said you have Post… post-trauma… stress disorder.” She looked at the wide brim of the hat, Jane ignoring the rage bubbling within.

“I’m fine. I’m not sick at all.”

America nodded. “I said they were just bad dreams. Even when you’re awake. He said that’s why it’s a sickness. Cause you have bad dreams when you’re awake.”

“I’m not sick, America. It really is just bad dreams.”

“I know. You would know if you were sick, right?”

“Affirmative.” Jane nodded, stopping at the small clothing store. America perked as they slipped inside, Jane taking her off his shoulders. He scanned the store slowly, looking for a pink size five and a half. America held onto his finger, her eyes wide as he turned to look at her. They were tiny in his grasp, the crisp white laces in a neat bow on top of the soft, rose-colored pink. She was such a small child. It was odd, how they didn't eat much yet she managed to be squishy. Not fat, but not thin. Engineer versus Sniper, he guessed.

“Are… they mine?” She turned and smiled at his nod, his fingers carding through the loose, soft hair as she held onto his leg. “Can I give the lady the money?” She pointed eagerly to the counter, bouncing on her toes.

Jane let out a soft laugh. “Of course, kiddo. They’re yours to buy.”


	2. Advance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a half-written chapter that I finished after publishing. I know what I want out of this story, but man how do I get there?

October 21st, 1982

Daisy-May made Jane nervous. Yes, she was kind of pretty, but there was something odd about her. She carried a heavy bag and currently stood outside their house, talking on some large, mobile phone with a long, shiny antenna. Who was she talking to? A Commie? The IRS?

Santa?

Oh wait, he was dead.

Jane tucked the blankets on the couch into the bookshelf, his pillow directly above it. She didn’t need to know the only room was America’s. The young girl had little, purple wildflowers in her hair, excitedly looking out the window.

“Dad, are you sure there are no bugs on the flowers?”

“I looked myself. Any bugs on those flowers are long gone, kiddo.” Jane adjusted the clean wifebeater he wore, hiking his pants up a tad higher so the belt hid the only hole they had.

“Okay.” She turned back to the window, her fingers sprawled against the glass. Daisy-May set the device back in her back turned and grinning as she took in the sight of an eager child.

Jane didn’t have any clean shirts. He knew it wasn’t polite, but it was clean. He rolled his shoulders, the toned muscles flexing with the motion.

There was a soft knock, America yanking the door open and letting out an excited ‘hello’ and she pulled the woman inside.

“Mister Doe- Oh.” The woman had vibrant red hair and shiny green eyes, her skin darkened by the sun but spotted in near-invisible freckles.

“You may begin teaching.” Jane barked, standing stiffly. His hat was pulled low to hide his eyes, his jaw set into a firm square.

“R-right.” Daisy-May peered around, slipping past Jane to sit on the couch. She set folders and books on the coffee table, not commenting on the scratches and heavily chipped edges and missing corners. America sat next to her quickly, Jane giving them one last look as he shuffled into the kitchen.

He couldn’t really hear them. He should be able too, but he couldn’t. His ears rang. Her voice was familiar. Soft, and southern. It reminded him of Dell. All to high heaven he missed Dell. He loved Zhanna, but Dell… He loved Dell more, he was certain of it. But Dell didn’t love him, and that was okay. Dell didn’t like flowers or necklaces of ears. He didn’t care for the messes he made while trying to make Dell meals or the loud explosion of a rocket launcher as he hovered to keep the other man’s sentries safe from the enemy spy. But that was okay too.

Because Dell was married. And that was a sacred thing.

Jane swallowed and the ringing grew louder. Dell wasn’t a possible option anyway. Death ends the marriage, nothing else. So while Zhanna loved him, and he- he wasn’t allowed to ruin someone else’s marriage. His father did that, and his father never lived to ruin another one after. But Jane had been old enough to go to war then. So it didn’t matter.

Jane lied then too, and he still wondered if lying was okay. 16 and 18 weren’t too different in war. But he lied about his age too. He was probably late 50’s by now. He always said 39. That was after he was dropped from the Mann Industries. From RED. And frankly, after having his biological clock reset so many times, he hadn’t quite aged. That long pause of war. Enlisted at 22 for RED. In a never-ending war for years and years... Only now aging. He didn’t really understand it too well. But 40 was fine. Even if he lost track of how old he really was.

Looking down, the soldier eyed the peppers and tomatoes sitting on the counter. Shiny and fresh. He’d start cooking so it would be done soon. So after working so hard, America could eat.

“Mister Doe?”

Jane turned on heel, the woman looking at him with concerned eyes. “Yes?”

“My three hours are up. I have to go now.”

Jane turned to the window. The sun was falling. How long did he stand there? America needed to eat.

“Fine.”

Daisy-May slipped a piece of paper on the counter next to him. “I would like to continue tutoring America. My pop always said you’ll know when you meet a smart kid, and he’s right ‘bout nearly everything.”

Jane frowned, looking at his boots. “I can’t pay you.”

“Don’t want you to pay.” Jane turned to Daisy-May in awe. “I wanna see America grow up into a smart woman. I think I’ll be okay if I don’t get paid by one person. At least she wants ta learn.”

Jane nodded dumbly. “Alright…”

“That paper is my number. I want you to call me so we can make a routine, alright?”

“Affirmative.”

Daisy-May paused, letting out a soft chuckle. “Ya remind me of a man my pop talked about. Always said that. He was a lot louder than you, though.”

Jane nodded again, his head reeling. “You really… Want to teach America for free?”

“Yes, sir I really do.”

Jane nodded, ignoring how tight his throat felt. “I have to cook now. Goodbye.”

She seemed taken aback for only a short moment, letting out another hearty chuckle. “Well, I’ll see ya ‘round, Mister Doe.”

The door echoed in the house, America trotting into the kitchen with a grin.

“I feel smart already.”

Jane nodded once more as if stuck in repeat. “You are smart.”

“But I feel it this time!”

Jane hummed. “Let’s make some dinner kiddo. Tell me about your lesson.”

March 6th, 1983

Daisy-May had kept coming, as she promised. Once a week, every Saturday. Jane would cook something that looked akin to an MRE. Balanced, but bland and not very exciting. Grits were quite common. America ate them with syrup, however. There were no complaints if the sweet maple was involved.

Jane had watched the clock, America progressing. Part of him stung. She could read better than he could. But, he wanted this.

Stirring the small corn kernels in an old pot had brought him comfort. It was storming out, and Daisy-May hadn’t shown up yet. After 5 months, she hadn’t missed a day. Even when the snow climbed to their knees, she would appear. Jane would shovel the sidewalks on those days. The richer people would pay him a whole 20 dollars to do it if the weather was bad. He cherished those days.

Jane poked his head out of the kitchen, the door opening and a flushed Daisy-May shuffling in.

“I have bad news.”

Jane flicked the stove off, turning to America. She slept on the couch, hair down and in a knotted mess that would make her cry a bit as he brushed it the next day. Daisy-May nodded, slipping out of her boots and following him into the kitchen. Jane turned the stove back on, setting the corn on a back burner while he started the cheap hamburgers he saved up to get.

“What do you have to report?” Jane muttered. Frankly, he didn’t care too much. He didn’t talk to Daisy-May. As far as he was concerned, she was America’s smart friend.

“My pop needs me home. In Texas.”

Jane hummed, peeking over for a quick second. “So you can’t tutor America?”

“No, I can’t,” She admitted softly. “I could take her with me.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Jane threatened.

“You can hardly take care of yourself. You provide for her well Mister Doe, but-”

“I,” Jane seethed, his body close to hers. “Will end you, Maggot. Remove that thought from your head, that’s a fucking order.”

Daisy-May swallowed, inching back a tiny fraction. His breath still made her hair move. Jane backed away, turning to the stove slowly.

“America is all I have. I suffer to make her comfortable and happy. It’s my duty as her father,” Jane explained.

“Where’s her mother?”

“Dead.”

Daisy-May scowled, her brows pinching together. “What if… ya worked on Pop’s farm?”

Jane paused only for a moment. “I couldn’t pay the travel fees.”

“And that’s fine, Mister Doe. You can pay me a little bit of your check each month.” Daisy-May hummed. “Pop needs the help. Ma didn’t… well, she’s like America’s.”

Jane only grunted.

“You do a lot of lifting, don’t ya? Pop is missin’ a hand, and he’s really smart. But sometimes the work catches up to him.”

“And why are you doing this?” Jane snapped softly. The pause made his spine tingle.

“Whatcha mean?”

“Why me? Why her?” Jane frowned.

Daisy-May grinned, the small gap in her teeth appearing. “It’s just a hunch, but I like ya and think you’re good people.”

The man backed away more, looking at the half working stove. He supposed a lot of things didn’t work here. And he hadn’t watched television in ages. Since his child was born. She would like it, the Sunday cartoons. Scout did as well. They would get along, probably. Jane sniffed, hunching his shoulders.

“I’ll call you with an answer.”

There was a soft pause, unburdened by aggression. “Thank you, Mister Doe.”

“Get out.”

“Alrighty.” Daisy-May chuckled lightly, warm and delicate. “Good night, Mister Doe. You’ve got a month to make a choice.”

He grunted and watched her slip her boots on, waiting for her to turn down the street before waking America up. Gently. She rolled over slowly, glassy eyes peeking open.

“Did Daisy-May come over?”

“She did.” Jane sat on the floor, crossing his legs. “She invited us to go to Texas with her. So then she can teach you, and I can work for her Dad.”

The child before him brightened. “Can we? I wanna go!”

Jane frowned. “I don’t know yet.”

“I’ll clean my room! Then you’ll think it’s okay!” The 7-year-old sat up with vigor, Jane raising a hand to halt her.

“It’s not that easy, America.”

“Why not? You left Russia alone,” She eased into the cushions, watching with those wide, steely eyes.

“That was different,” He muttered. “I had to,” He said a tad louder, leaving out the part where Misha would no doubt kill him for good. “It’s risky now.”

“Why?”

Jane took a breath. “Daisy-May is nice, but I don’t trust her. Or her Dad. Or the work she’s promising.”

“Is it worth it?”

“I might make less than I do now.”

“So?”

Jane frowned. “So no shoes or books or games. Or food for that matter.” He grumbled in defeat.

“Please.” She rubbed her hands together, kicking her feet back and forth. “What if it’s really nice there?”

“What if it isn’t?” He countered. “It might be the worst thing ever.” He sat on the floor and crossed his legs in a pretzel. “I can not, and will not take this risk, America.”

Watching her eyes water made him want to die. Her lip quivered and her face turned a blotchy red. She hadn’t cried in years. And this was the thing that made her cry. Him. He said no to a chance.

Fear.

But he had to be afraid. She would live with his choice and be glad later down the road.

“Okay…” She whimpered, scooting off the couch. America moved past his open hand, ignoring his treaty to go to her room.

God, it hurt. It hurt so much.

It hurt.

Bullets used to hurt but not as this did.

Falling hurt. Merasmus hurt. Machine guns and needles and bats and rockets and swords and signs and pellets and sentries…

His stomach hurt. It hurt so bad. Were there bullets in him? It was hot. Dustbowl hot. No, it was cold. Poland cold. Dustbowl… Poland… Dustbowl… Poland... 

His mother cried a lot. His father was quite mean. She would cry and cry and hold him and cry more. Heavy said cry some more. She did. No Misha was a good man- except in blue. That wasn’t his brother in law.

He couldn’t breathe. The blood in his throat after his teeth were drilled into. His head reeled.

Needed water.

His legs hurt. He fell. Launched high into the sky and back down again, a body crunching and screaming under his boots. He hurt. It was so warm. It smelled like sand and blood and gunpowder.

Just stop the battle. Call it…

“You failed, Dad.” The announcer crowed.

He wanted to kill her but he knew war and nothing else.

“Overtime! Dad, overtime! Fight harder!”

“Dad?”

America would die here. He had to, had to, had to…

“Ah, Dad!” Jane blinked multiple times, vomit on his shirt and his arm crushed under his side.

“America…”

“I’ll get you water.” She turned away, the soft pattering of feet and the sound of the tap screeching as water came through.

Home. Not Dustbowl. Home. America with a cold cup of water for him. Such a good girl, so kind.

He drank it quickly, the girl running off to refill it. Leaning against the couch, Jane took ragged breaths. In and out. In and out.

“Was it a nightmare, Dad?”

She sounded so far away. “Yeah…”

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered. “I’m sorry I made you have a nightmare.”

Jane’s head snapped forward. “It’s not your fault. You stop thinking that right now!” He held the cup in one hand, the glass cold and fragile in his grasp.

“But I-”

“But nothing!” He barked, his voice filling with shame. “Your stupid teacher is right, America. He’s right!” He moaned. “I’m sick. I’m sick and I… Daisy-May said she wanted to take you to live with her. She said I can’t. She’s right too.” With a gasp, the retired soldier felt his heartbreak again. Four times in his whole life. Three was enough but…

“You,” He started, gasping again. “Are going to go pack some stuff in a box.” His voice popped. “And we’re gonna do to Daisy-May’s.”

“Dad…”

“And I’m gonna call you once a week, every Saturday.”

“Dad, please…” God, she sounded so hurt.

His throat felt like it was going to crush itself. “And you’re gonna be well cared for in Texas. And you’ll grow up smart and beautiful.”

“Please, Dad!” She grabbed his shirt, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t wanna go with Daisy-May that bad! We can stay together I promise.”

“Don’t you fucking get it?” Jane grabbed her shoulders and shook her, his hat long gone. “I’m sick, America! I can’t take care of you! Do you know what it’s like to eat every day? Everyone else does! They can get clothes and shoes and games! I can’t give you that!” He wailed, sitting on his knees. “S-so you,” He seethed, his face warm and wet for some reason, “Are going to go and fucking live with Daisy-May. And you’re gonna have friends, and you’ll forget your ol’ Dad and that’s fine!”

“Da-”

“That’s an order!” He yelled as loud as he possibly could, his hands sliding to the floor. America ran and slammed her bedroom door, his ears ringing and his tears dripping into the carpet. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His heart hurt. His head hurt. His everything just plain hurt. But there was no doctor for him. Jane Doe was a sick man with a child who was smart than he was at age 7.

Jane Doe was a sick man.

With a child, he loved and adored.

That he could not raise.

Jane Doe was a broken man.

And he hated it.


	3. What I Want, I Will Get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, another character.
> 
> I'm super pleased that the comments I've gotten so far are as positive as they are. Makes me feel all warm inside. My biggest and warmest thanks.

August 10th, 1984

Every single day was like a torture method he didn’t know how to cope with. His head caved in? Fine. Magical bombs? Whatever. The Classic Pyro? Pansy!

This though.

Him and his thoughts.

Did he look like coward when he showed up to Daisy-May’s? A hypocrite? Everything blends too much. Sometimes it blended together so much he’d go to the school only to turn around and walk home. Everytime the phone picked up, ‘pop-click’, America would tell him what she learned and ate and talked about. Not much about Daisy-May’s family. She probably didn’t trust them like she did Daisy-May. Good. Don’t trust people. Not when you were a little girl.

With the sun on his back, he sat next to a man he worked with. Moses Moss, with the oddest name Jane had ever heard, leaned back on the cement stairs leading to one of the entrances of the shipping plant, his shirt soaked. Moses was a sweaty man.

“Ey, Jane, where’s that kid of yours? It’s been forever.”

It had been in Jane’s eyes. “Texas.”

“Really? Ex-wife get her? Mine too.” He sighed. “Miss them kids like nothing else.” He set a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry you didn’t get custody, pal. Them family lawyers favor the women. Don’t give guys like us a chance! Makes me sick. But,” He concluded, “It’s nice to be able to relax and see ‘em on the weekends.”

“I… I call her. Every Saturday. At 5 sharp.”

“Yeah, you’re real punch-to-al.” Moses nodded like some sort of sage. “Lemme tells ya though, Sheila Faulkner, the bitch, she’s been trying to take my rights away. So I can’t see ‘em. She claims I’m some sort of monster.”

Sounded legit. Jane muttered in agreement. “Got another new car about a few months ago.”

“Yeah? I bet. Oughta spent it on Jacob ya know? He’s gettin’ close to that age where they start eatin’ more. Then, they grow real fuckin’ fast and eat more! Gotta have shit saved or she’ll be sellin’ that car!” Moses let out a hearty laugh. “I’d dance in my shorts to see her give it up.”

Jane let out a wheezy laugh. Darkened, rough skin glistening under the sun as Moses danced in some ratty underpants. His mustache would wiggle and flop around like a dying squirrel. That would be a good time.

“Ah, man.” Moses shook his head. “You haven’t laughed in forever. Glad to see ya do it.”

Jane paused, swallowing hard. “Moses, I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot, my guy.”

“I… I was offered a job in Texas a good while ago.” Jane started, trying to be vague. “Well, I thought it was too risky. But I sent America to Texas anyway. I… I want her back. I want my little girl back.”

Moses hummed. “Well, you ain’t got a car.”

“I’ll walk if I have to.”

“Ehh, why not bus fare?” Moses chuckled. “I mean, you’ve been saving up for nothing. Fewer blisters too.”

He had a point. “Alright, but do I go?”

Moses crossed his arms. “You love your kid, Doe?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know the answer, don’t ya? Besides, as long as you make enough for yourself, you can jus’ rent some shithole out for you. America can stay wherever the fuck she’s at, and you can be closer.”

Jane stood. “Tell Morgan I quit then.”

“Wait, right now? Not gonna get the end-of-the-week paycheck?”

“No.” Jane turned on heel, back straight. “I’m going to Texas, now.”

“Do ya even know where she’s at?”

“Some little place called Ebe Oave! With an ‘e’ on the end!”

“Sounds like hell.” Moses raised his palm. “Godspeed, pal, but know you are the craziest bastard I’ve seen in my fuckin’ life.”

“Affirmative.” Jane opened and closed his mouth, thinking. “And you’ve been a great friend, Moses.”

“Ah, friends? We makin’ bracelets next? Get the fuck outta here, Doe. You got a lil’ girl to find.”

Jane marched home without another word. His bones tingled, his lips pulled into a grin, and his heart was dead set on this.

Opening the door to his ragged home, he snagged the slip of paper Daisy-May gave him a year and some months ago. Address, phone number, her name spelled completely wrong. For a tutor, she sure couldn’t spell.

He grabbed the bed sheet off of America’s bed, a simple white sheet with nothing special about it. He slipped the safety pins he used on her too long pants into the sides, creating a pouch. Twisting the bristle-bit off of the broom, he punctured the top of the pouch, turning it to a large bindle. Stuffing cloths and a few canned items in the bag, he tied the loose sides into a fat knot, slugging it over his shoulder. He’d used to live on very little, and he sure as hell could do it again. 

Reaching into what looked like a jar of peanut butter, Jane extracted the few hundred dollars he saved. It was just brown paper. He was proud of how well it worked.

He never used it. Food was only needed once every few days and his clothes could last as long as he decided they could. With his pockets full of cash, he slammed the door shut, taping a note to the old wood and turning off into the street.

I aw moovimg. Blese sel my houce.  
-Jaen Doɘ

It would do. Rolling his shoulders he marched down the main road, counting to himself again.

One street, two streets, three, four, left one, two…

The bus stop was large and had glass on the sides. Or, one of them. The right side’s glass was half missing so it was a mountain range of sharp shards. It crunched under his boots as he shuffled back and forth, waiting.

And waiting. Waiting. Part of him wished he had just walked.

It was almost sundown by the time the bus came, and the fat man in the driver’s seat was fuming by the time he managed to get the right amount of money stuffed into the little bucket.

He sat with a huff, his bag in the seat next to him. Tipping his hat down, he crossed his arms. Wherever he went, he’d be fine.

When Jane woke up, he found out that it wasn’t quite true. The bus didn’t go far enough. It dropped him off at a shitty gas station where he ate his fill of granola bars. There wouldn’t be any more busses tonight, the teen behind the counter said. So he marched to a motel, and he bought a dank smelling room.

Laying down, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But he couldn’t sleep. It was too warm in here. Too, ‘not his’. With a groan, Jane slipped outside, plopping down on the raised sidewalk just outside his room, his head resting on his room door. He was locked out. His stuff was in there.

A van pulled up, the tires crunching a plastic bag that had been sitting in the parking lot. The soldier kept his eyes on the moths that shifted and danced around the old, dim light bulb.

He didn’t know where he was anymore. Started in Leo-Cedarville… Where was he now?

“Oi… Oi!”

Jane kept his gaze on the light.

“Soldier!”

His head snapped up so quickly his hat flicked off his head. Who…? He squinted. Tall, lanky, spider-like legs and a long face.

“Sniper?”

“Yeah. Oi, mate, I haven’t seen ya in forever!” He made a face as he thought, settling on something akin to pity and confusion. “Whatcha doin’ here? Thought you were in Russia.”

Soldier shrugged. “I moved to America, and now I’m lost.” He couldn’t hide the dejection in his voice. “I need to go to Texas. My daughter is there.”

“Y-ya have a kid?” He lanky man shuffled over, dropping onto the sidewalk with a soft ‘oof’. “Well, I mean, it wasn’t where I was goin’ next but… I can take ya.”

Soldier shook his head. “No. I… I should head home.” His clenched his fists. “This was fucking stupid. I didn’t think this through at all…”

The ex-sniper looked like he had seen Soldier admit he loved Communism. “Mate, what happened to ya? You aren’t… yelling or loud at all, ya ain’t excited.”

The other man shrugged. “I don’t have anything any more. Not that it matters. I- I just want my little girl back. I can pay you. It’s not a lot but I can pay you.” He reached in his pocket, tossing the money out so it scattered into a loose pile.

“Well,” He started, his signature shades sliding off his face and finding a place in the neck of Sniper’s shirt. “Call me Lawrence. It’s my name. Mick’s fine too, but it don’t matter. I’m doin’ a tour of America, cause ya know, never had the chance. Got all that cash but for what, ya know?”

The man nodded. “How much do you want?”

“Just my name, mate. Think of it as a reunion trip. Or uh, all those bleedin’ times ya jumped in an’ saved me.” The tall man gave a grin that showed just the tips of his teeth. “Never thanked ya, ya just ran off.”

“I had a wife to settle.”

“How’s Z-Zhanna?” He asked, fishing for names. “How’s she anyway?”

“She’s dead.”

“Ahh, I’m sorry mate.” He set his hand on Jane’s shoulder. “My parents passed not too long ago. S’why I’m tourin’.”

There was a heavy pause. “Why?”

“Why they died? They were just old, mate.”

“No, why help me?” Jane asked, face contorting. “I’ve… I’ve you treated poorly. I’ve hit you with a whip before. I… I yelled and spit and cursed.” America would see him and he’d be a monster in those steely eyes of her’s.

Lawrence shrugged. “Yeah, ya did. But,” He huffed a laugh. “I dunno. When I left, an’ the others in ‘Stralia started harkin’, I felt like it didn’t matter. They didn’t know me. They were just insults, nothing else. Like when you’d call us creampuffs. It’s jus’ a name.”

Jane said nothing, shifting nervously.

“I guess in the end, ya told us we weren’t doin’ our best, and I guess you were right. I’ve felt, I dunno, more… whatsit, confident? Maybe? I ain’t good with words.”

“The point is you break you down and build you up. It’s to make you emotionally stronger so nothing will stand in your way.”

“Well, it worked, somehow.” Lawrence chuckled. “Been feelin’ like Scout. Still not good with words, and I hate bein’ in crowds, but words don’t piss me off like they did before.”

“Jane.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Jane Doe. You can call me Jane.”

“Well, it’s nice meetin’ ya, Jane.”

“We have met before!” He countered, brows peeking up in confusion.

“No that’s- Aw, nevermind.” Sniper stood and stretched. “I came here to park an’ sleep. We can head out in the morning.”

“Sni-Lawrence.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a… question.” Embarrassment flooded his voice.

“Yeah?”

“I… locked myself out of my room.”

“That’s not really a question, mate. I think I got that fancy gadget from Truckie though.” He trotted to his van, leaving Jane alone.

Was this a sign to continue? His mother said the people found each other because of Fate. Did Fate say he needed Sniper to find America? Well, it was better than a stranger, he supposed. He trusted Sniper. Lawrence was one of his men. Quiet and skilled, friendly in an awkward way. He used to be humble to the point of self-degradation in everything except his shooting. He didn’t realize he played the sax so well, or that he could change a battle if he set his heart to it. Or that he had the best camp nights! Beer and meat and songs and laughter. Sniper would host them often it always made Soldier feel loved, even if sometimes he was laughed at for saying or doing something stupid.

But if they laughed, was is that bad he made an ass of himself? The betterment of all at the price of one.

“Here.” Sniper stepped around him, cramming swiss-knife-like object into the keyhole. It popped open, Jane’s bindle on the floor and his boots half-tucked under the bed.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” Sniper patted his shoulder. “We got a long day tomorrow. Sleep well, So-Jane.”

“You too, Lawrence. I- Thank you. For doing this. You’ll never know how grateful I am.”

Lawrence smiled in that soft way that he did when they played games or told stories at dinner. “Well, I think I get what ya mean now.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t deafening or awkward. It just felt like thinking.

“I can see ya changed some, Jane. Dunno how much but, I kinda like ya when you ain’t screamin’ at me.”

Jane scowled. “I still can. And if I have to, I will.”

“Not in the van at least. Rings too much.” Sniper shrugged. “Night.”

“G’night.” Once Sniper’s door shut, Soldier trudged to bed, shutting his door and peeling his shirt off. Tired. Cold. Sleep. Warm.

He dreamt of America, her large eyes and soft hair. He hummed to her and made her dinner as she did her math homework on the floor next to him. He missed it. He’d give his soul for it.


	4. Lawrence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, the majority of this chapter is to show that they changed over the years, but I wonder if it's too out of character? I figured a confident Sniper would be close to Demo levels of pure bro, but that depends on your headcanons. So have some filler and 80's songs.

August 11th, 1984

“And that new song from Prince, ‘When Doves Cry’!” The radio announcer said with false pep, the song starting on a strong guitar riff.

“Oi, mate, get a load of this guy! Makes some animal calls at the end, it’s a riot.” Sniper laughed, turning the radio up a notch. Jane learned Lawrence loved pop music. Anything new, really. It didn’t need to follow a genre either. He just loved music.

The lanky man shimmied his shoulders, eyes still glued to the road.

It was ridiculous.

Jane let out a barking laugh, his gut hurting when the singer let out a high note that Lawrence very poorly copied. It was a harmonious caterwauling.

“Wonder if they’ll play Footloose.” The Aussie pondered. “It’s a real good bop to dance to. Sheilas love that one. Gotta wiggle a whole bunch though. Makes me tired in an instant!”

Jane also learned Lawrence was here pretty much to visit dance clubs. Which, admittedly, Jane used to enjoy a bunch when he was young. It had been such a long time though.

If they followed 65, they could make it to Alabama easily, but Lawrence had countered that it was still his American Tour, so it was in fact up to him if he wanted to stop. Jane, despite his eagerness, couldn’t complain. It felt good to stretch his legs and take his mind off of things.

They currently somewhere close to Louisville, Lawrence pointing to a slip of paper as the van slowed to a stop.

“What’s it say?” Jane asked, Lawrence leaning toward his window.

“Tours!” He turned to Jane. “Wanna see some ghosts, mate?”

Jane grumbled. “Ghosts aren’t even scary.”

“No kiddin’. I wanna see what they’re passin’ off as ‘real’. Heh, bet it’s some bedsheets an’ a hook.” Lawrence veered off, Jane watching trees and buildings swoop by. A huge building filled his vision though, his mind connecting this with the spooky tour place.

Waverly Hill? That wasn’t even scary sounding.

Lawrence flicked the driver’s door open and waited for Jane, a grin on his face.

Had he been lonely like Jane had been while America was gone? The thought made his stomach knot. Jane would be a good friend. He could manage. Even if he hadn’t, Lawrence was being extremely kind, right? So if the other man wanted to see a scary san-a-tor-i-um so be it.

Jane pulled his cap down, following the other with his hands in his pockets.

Only snippets of the conversation came through. Two tickets, not too expensive, ghost woman, blah blah blah, body chute-

Body chute?

Jane looked up and frowned. Santa used chimneys, which made them body chutes!

That bastard made it!

With determination, Jane straightened up. Lawrence wasn’t a man fighter! If Saint Nick showed up, he’d be a goner. With a glance to his overjoyed troop, his mind became clear. Keep Sniper alive! He’d done it before, he’d do it again!

They followed the group into the building, Jane walking slowly. The guide chittered like a squirrel, Jane tugging Lawrence’s sleeve. He ducked into a room, the lanky man looking at him with owlish eyes.

“Mate, what’s wrong with ya? Scared?”

“We need to defeat this ghost!” Jane explained; like it should have been obvious. “Wherever it came from, it oughta go back!”

“J-jane, it probably ain’t really there, ya know.”

“Private, you’ve seen Merasmus, and you remember Santa Clause! This ghost is here and kicking!”

Lawrence peeked through the fogged glass. “So you… wanna explore without a guide? Mate, we might get kicked out.”

Of course, he didn’t get the threat. No matter, a good spook would do the man well.

“We won’t get caught if we’re quiet.”

With a huff of a laugh, Lawrence raised his hands in defeat. “Well, we ain’t stayin’ here anyway. Let’s have an adventure.”

The two darted up the nearest stairs to put distance between them and the group. Lawrence hummed a tune, hunching over as they gazed into rooms.

“You think it’s gonna be a real ghost?” He asked.

“If civilians have seen it, no doubt we will!” Jane nodded to himself, cracking his knuckles. “COME ON OUT YOU PANSY DEMONS!”

“Oi, mate, we’ll get caught!” Lawrence opened his mouth, but it shut with a clack as the air grew cold. “You feel that?”

“I feel my foot going in someone’s ass!” Jane exclaimed, whipping around. A nurse stood in the door, her face translucent. “You! Fight me!”

The ghost looked disgusted.

Lawrence blinked a few times. “Oi, can we get a picture?”

“A what?”

“Ya know. A picture.” Lawrence held up a Polaroid camera. “‘Long as ya ain’t Santa you should be fine.” He nudged Jane, the shorter man grunting.

“I apologize for threatening to put my foot in your ass.” Jane placed his hands on his hips. “But if you do anything I don’t like you WILL feel my boot in your tear ducts!”

The woman nodded once, inching closer. “What do I do?”

“Just stand there. We’ll get in close an’ snap a pic. That’s all.” Lawrence shrugged. “Oh, an’ smile real wide!”

 

A few hours later, after they had been kicked out by a very angry tour guide, Jane was left with a picture of him and Lawrence, the ghost between them. Each had wide, shit-eating grins, the ghost seeming all too pleased with having her picture taken with tourists. With the ugly floral shirts the two wore, it seemed like a picture worth the fridge.

Jane smiled fondly, tucking his copy in his shirt pocket. “That was fun.”

“Too bad we can’t go back,” Lawrence chuckled. “Think she liked us.”

 

August 13th, 1984

Off in the woods, near the Alabama River, the two ate rabbit. And Jane couldn’t say he really liked it. Maybe it was because of campfire charring it, though. He’d eat it sure, but he wouldn’t order it at a restaurant anytime soon.

The radio played from the van, Jane and Lawrence chatting softly as something twangy played. Something about roads and Virginia. It was a good song to camp to, at least. The ex-soldier had to admit, his friend had a good taste in music. Nothing too vulgar, nothing too prude. Catchy. Something you could at minimum tap your toes to.

Lawrence finished his story about teaching Scout to fire a rifle, which ended with the younger man’s jaw blooming with a huge bruise from the rifle kick.

“Shoulda used the Heatmaker. Less kick, less noise too. I thought that lil’ scattergun would have more kick than my rifle, but I guess ‘cause you kinda cradle it, its spread is different.”

Jane huffed. “If I wasn’t worried he’d break it, I’d let him try the Beggar’s and watch him get launched into space.”

Lawrence laughed. “Mate, he’d probably love it until he came back down.” He cringed a bit. “Wouldn’t wanna be Doc there.”

“I wouldn’t wanna be Doc even if it was just a cut.” Jane scoffed. “America getting a scrape about killed me the first time. A broken bone? I’d lose it.” He admitted.

Lawrence hummed. “What’s it like havin’ an ankle biter anyway?”

Jane opened his mouth and closed it again, taking a slow breath. “It’s… Sometimes you want it to stop. You want nothing more than to be alone. Other times it’s the best thing in the world. The pride, the love, the- the way they look at you like you’re their entire world.” He shook his head. “America didn’t cry much. Never did. God, she held a grudge though.”

“Yeah?”

Jane huffed. “Promised her burgers on her 6th birthday, couldn’t afford it. Was mad at me for at least a month. Kept saying I couldn’t keep a promise.” He snickered. “I thought of something sneaky though.” He explained his peanut butter/money jar. “That was all set aside so I couldn’t break promises. Although,” He glanced at his pockets. “It’s all I’ve been using.”

Lawrence nodded. “I’m sure you’ll have another job down there in a flash, mate. All the things we could say ‘bout ya, a slacker ain’t it, ya know?”

With a chuckle, Jane shrugged. “I try at least.”

The Aussie paused. “Oi, Jane, I wanna ask somethin’ a lil’ personal.”

“Go ahead.” Jane took a bite of his rabbit. Oh, the leg was better than the chest.

Lawrence turned red with blush. “Mate, ya ain’t exactly a… a scholar. But, ya don’t seem so… uh…”

Jane sighed. “Misha. He made me study. He went to college after we were disbanded again. Made me go with him. I… I sat outside and waited for most days. Listening. Some things were too hard but… I understood some of it. And, when I learned Zhanna was pregnant, well…” He shrugged. “I listened harder. I couldn’t be, me,” He stressed. “With a baby. I knew that much.”

“Sorry it was rude, Jane, but…”

“It’s a big change.” Jane frowned. “I’ve changed more than I thought I would have. But I had to.”

Lawrence nodded. “I get ya, mate. Misha made ya study though? God, I’d give my liver to not study with him.”

“He’s all talk at home.” Jane raised his brows. “His sister’s are complete Russian Cupcakes. Can kill a bear but scream if a spider managed to get in the house.” Although Russian spiders were the spawn of Satan himself, women that killed bears sobbing over a little bug seemed odd. “Made me look like a hero each time I got one.”

Lawrence sniffed. “Betcha mine woulda made ‘em keel. Oh, I never showed ya!” He stood and entered the back, rummaging through something. “Come on in here! I ain’t takin’ her out an’ Lily don’t like the door open.”

Lily?

“She’s a Korat breed.” Lawrence held up a silvery cat with vibrant blue-green eyes. “She don’t like the outside though.”

Jane shut the door behind him, taking in the camper van. It was cramped and smelled like lemon cleaner and animal. His bed was made and had cat fur all over the pillows, his small table covering in a thick twine, cat claws gathered at the bottom.

“Lily’s a good girl, aren’t ya kitty?” The lanky man rubbed his face against the cat’s, holding her out to Jane. “Ya can hold her.”

“I’ve… never…”

“She don’t care how ya hold her. Promise.” Lawrence directed Jane’s arms anyway, the cat’s front feet sitting on his chest. The soft rumble of Lily’s purr made him feel better about holding her.

“So, here’s Rosie.” He opened a tall glass box, Jane flinching when he rolled his arm so a large spider sat on the back of his hand. “She’s an Antilles Pinktoe Tarantula. Lil lover she is, although bites real good.” Lawrence kept his arm close. “Ain’t keen on strangers, sorry, but I gotta feed her so if ya want, you can try. Might not take it from ya, she’s real shy.”

Jane shook his head slowly. “I’m okay with the cat.”

“Awh, she ain’t gonna hurt ya mate. Or ya know, not a lot. They bite but it normally ain't worse than a bee sting. Rosie here hasn’t bitten me once though. She’s a big baby.” He allowed her back in her little box, the pink spider resting on a large chunk of tree bark. Lawrence reached in his cabinet, shuffling around. He opened a small Tupperware container, picking a cricket out of it with the ease of someone who had done it for years. Dropping it into the terrarium, Lawrence set the crickets back where they came from.

“Females can live to 20 years. Had her for about…” He hummed. “5 or 6?”

“Any other pets?” Jane asked hesitantly.

“Got a milk snake,” He pointed toward the door, Jane turning to see a snake just lounging in some sort of potted aloe. “He’s a right bastard sometimes!” Lawrence smiled like a proud parent. “Likes to look through the window over the bed. When we’re drivin’ take a peek an' ya might see ‘em. Named him Randy.”

“Why Randy?”

“Dunno. Just thought it fit him.”

Jane turned to the snake, its tongue flickering at him. Yeah, maybe Randy fit.

When they returned to the road a few hours later, Jane had in fact seen Randy peek through the curtain by the bed, his nose against the glass. Lily sat in the cab with them though, sleeping on the dashboard. It wasn’t a myth the man had a personal zoo in the camper then. That meant Tavish was right all along. Jane owed him an apology.

With a sigh, Jane peered out the window. They had crossed into Mississippi finally.

“How long do you think we have?” Jane asked.

“Dunno,” Lawrence admitted. “Maybe another day.”

Jane nodded in defeat. “I’m excited and nervous.”

“How come?”

“It’s been a year and five months-”

“That long?” Lawrence looked over, his gaze snapping back to the road. “Jesus mate. Why wait so long?”

“I… I don’t… I’m sick, Lawrence.”

The Aussie peeked over. “Am I gonna have to visit the vet for my cat?”

“No, no not that kind of sick.”

The man peeked over again. “Is… Are ya gonna...u-um…” He whispered ‘die’ like it was the worst curse word in the world.

“No. In here.” Jane tapped his head. “I… I wanted to get better but I’ve been- I can’t do it, Lawrence. I need my girl.”

“And who’s she been stayin’ with?” He asked, brows tipping down.

“Daisy-May, her tutor.”

“Daisy-May?” Lawrence brightened. “Well damn it- I know who you’re talkin’ ‘bout. O-oh, wait!” He veered over sharply, Lily sliding off the dash and digging her claws in Jane’s thigh.

“Lawr-”

“Why didn’t ya say so mate? Ah, piss, ya shoulda said Bee Cave before this all started! Woulda been there a lot sooner! I gotta be there in a week anyway.”

Jane held Lily, her heart beating rapidly in her little ribcage. Although his heart did too. “I’m lost!”

“Yer talkin’ ‘bout Truckies girl!” Lawrence slapped his hand over his forehead, his Akubra slipping back. “Ah piss, I’m sorry mate. Shoulda asked sooner.”

“Engie-”

“Yup.” He nodded. “He’s gathered the team each year, well, expect you. No one knew where ya went, mate! Ah, I think I saw America last year then. She’s the lil’ one that likes her hair in buns, yeah?”

“Affirmative! She loves buns!” Jane said loudly, excitement building. “I’m very good at doing her hair now!”

The ex-sniper let out a barking laugh. “Fuckin’ hell ain’t this a mess! The team’s meetin’ at Truckies in a week. Every August 20th.”

0820\. The code to Engie’s workshop. Soldier had slammed those buttons plenty of times over the years.

“Lawrence! Drive faster or so help me god I will drive for you!”

“Gotta obey the speed limit mate. I’ve been pegged as an illegal animal snatcher.” Lawrence turned red. “They keep sayin’ my license ain’t real cause there ain’t any scrawny Aussies.”

He wasn’t really scrawny anymore though. Toned and lean, but not scrawny, Jane thought to himself, shaking his head. Didn’t matter.

“Well, drive as fast as you can without getting pulled over!” Jane stroked the cat in his lap. “And turn carefully! Lily has made my legs bleed!” He gestured to the long rips in his pants and the blood oozing out of the holes.

“You wanna stop and take care of that?”

“No time! My legs can be ripped off and I’ll still see my child. Don’t even stop to piss, that’s an order!”

“Yes’sir!” Lawrence laughed, cranking the radio up and pushing the gas pedal down just a little more than he had been.

“And for your after-work jams, ‘Dancing with Myself’ by Billy Idol!” The radio announcer chimed, her voice full of pep that Jane could relate to.

With a heart full of hope and a lap full of cat, Jane grinned as they passed highway marker after highway marker.

America, here he comes.


	5. Rusted Clock

August 14th, 1984

Unsurprisingly, Engineer lived on a farm, with lush grass and cows off in the distance. Lawrence reminded him to call him Dell, which he'd have to get used to. Engie was just something he said. Dell was almost, friendly. Too close. But he called Sniper, Lawrence, so he could do it. He called him Dell anyway, just… not out loud.

Although at 2 am, it wasn't quite polite to go into a man's home to ask which he preferred. If Jane knew anything, it was that the house was rigged. How or with what? He sure as hell didn't know. But he had a feeling and that was enough for him.

Lawrence was asleep on the roof of the van, in a soft looking sleeping bag. Jane was allowed to sleep on the bed, but it creeped him out. Knowing he would be asleep while Randy was on the loose set him on edge more than Rosie’s existence did.

He turned in bed and gazed around the dark room, the bright moon his only light. Randy was in the aloe plant, coiled around the base. Rosie was on the floor of her box. Lily was on the edge of the bed, eyes nearly glowing in the dim light while she stretched onto his legs.

And he… he was…

Sleeping in a friend's camper.

Jane sighed. If he waited 4 hours, it would be 7. Engie- Dell, used to get up at 6:30. This would go be him time to use the bathroom, get dressed, and start some coffee before Jane knocked.

He could wait 4 hours.

He could wait 3 hours and 59 minutes.

He could very easily wait 3 hours and 58 minutes. To see his daughter. Whom was only a few yards away.

3 hours and 57 minutes was nothing. He took a deep breath, Lily lounging on his chest.

3 hours and 56 minutes were simple. It wasn't too long. But… maybe he should call Moses and see how he's doing?

...3 hours and 55 minutes.

It was too much. He needed his little girl. Not even Dell could stop him. He- Jane needed to see her again!

Jane ushered Lily off onto the bed, a disgruntled ‘me-rrow-phhff!’ coming from the cat. He swung his legs over the bed, marching past Randy who watched with half-assed interest.

The grass was dew covered and cold on his bare feet, the wind chilling his biceps. So close. So very close.

Jane raised his fist to knock, blood running cold. He… he remembered knocking-

Tyler was a good man. In the war, they had been friends. Tyler was blown to itty bitty pieces. There was no body to bury. Jane had given his wife a flag.

She opened the door and sobbed. He wasn't even a real army man. He made the flag himself.

America would sob, wouldn't she?

Jane quelled his shaking, his hand paused on handle.

Turn, and push. But he couldn't. Turn, and push. His blood was cold. Turn, and push. Please. Turn. Please Jane, just- just turn it that's step one. Turn. Turn. Turn! Please just- please…

The door opened slowly, Jane's hand empty. His head was swimming, only to come to a very sudden halt.

“Can I help ya?”

“America. Please, I have to see her.” Jane couldn't see. He was sweating, wasn't he?

“Soldier?”

“No!” He snapped, gaze focusing on a man but not really seeing. “No-no my name is Jane Doe. I just want to see American that's all!”

Dell blinked at him, blue eyes wide. “Jane, take a breath.” His hand rested on his outstretched hand, Jane swallowing thickly.

“My daughter."

“America is your’s?” The shock in his voice was evident.

“Yeah. Yeah she's mine. I made a mistake. Please.”

“Hey, hey look at me.”

He did. And it made his head fill with words and his heart beat rapidly.

“Let's get ya a drink.” Dell peeked past him, sparing the sleeping ex-sniper a grin. “Lawrence found ya, huh? He's real good at it. Somehow. Must a’ been all those years outside.”

Jane inhaled when Dell pulled him inside, his hands twitching. Cinnamon and pumpkin, pie crusts…

“C'mere and sit.” Dell waited patently. “It's been a very long time, Sol-Jane. Let's catch up so America can sleep, right?”

“Yeah. Then she'll grow up pretty. Beauty rest.”

“She's a growin’ girl. Gotta have good habits so she don't end up short like me.” Dell smiled a bit, something… fake.

He didn't want to see him. That was…

Fine.

He wasn't here for Dell. He was here for America.

“Why'd ya give her up, soldier-boy?”

“My name is Jane.” His voice was no higher than a whisper. “I'm not a soldier. I'm a sick bastard. I was scared for my daughter. I want the best. But- but I'm selfish! I need her, Dell. I want to see her grow. When she was gone, I was nothing. Nothing, you hear me? Not even God himself is gonna stop me.”

Dell smiled, relaxed. “I feel the same way ‘bout Daisy-May. It's good to see ya grow, Jane. I'm proud of ya.”

Jane wasn't. Jane was ashamed of himself for a good reason. He was a sick freak with a selfish heart. He was a father. All fathers were sick and selfish, he was sure.

“Dell, I… what time is it?”

“5:08.”

“1 hour and 52 minutes.” Jane muttered. “Just an hour.” The bulky man cradled his head in his hands, shoulders quivering.

“Jane? Are… are ya okay?”

“Where is she, Dell?” Steely eyes looked up, his strong face tainted with the look of a broken child. “Please.”

“Second door on the right- uh, actually- I'll show ya-”

“I went to college. With Misha. I can count that far.” Jane hissed with little heat. Standing, he strode into the main hall, eyes scanning around. There was a loft in the living room but the stairs weren't visible, and he was sure Dell's room was up there. Or maybe an office. Four doors were on the bottom floor, although one said “dahtr00m”, whatever that meant.

He carefully opened it, unsurprisingly silent. Engineer hated squeaking doors more than robots! Maybe…

It was a bathroom! Why not just say so?

He opened the door he was supposed to, his breath catching in his throat. His little girl. With neatly cut hair spread over a soft looking pillow. Softer than he could ever afford. The room smelled like peaches, and the walls were a soft purple. Dark wood furniture in a set. An American flag hung over her bed, fairy lights strung up across the ceiling.

Jane inched into the room, stopping at the nightstand. A photo of him with America on his shoulders. She was no older than 4 then. Moses took it at a work party. They hadn't been friends yet though.

Next to it was a photo of him and Zhanna on their wedding day. An aged Lieutenant Bites sat on his shoulders, Zhanna holding his hands. Well, one of them. He held the remainder of her right. Her veil was back and her dress had blood on it, ‘decorative’ he said. Jane lied about it being blood, and he had no desire to tell America the truth. He had blood on his tux though, and the fillings in his teeth were visible if you squinted.

His heart squeezed angrily. Even his wedding ended up with him breaking someone's neck. Jane just wanted to enjoy it.

A photo of America on a horse; her getting a math award at school. He wasn't there for those. He should have been.

Jane sighed, sitting on the bed delicately. When she didn't stir, he laid down, scooping her pillow onto his arm. She rolled into his chest, and Jane held her close.

And he sobbed.

He sobbed with shuttering, hiccuping breaths. His baby. His girl. His true love. Jane loved her. Nothing… not again.

He let his tears soak the top of her head, her small hands gripping his shirt.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I'm really glad you're here.”

“I- I am too.” He squeezed carefully, inhaling sharply. He had to breathe. Breathe. He was where he belonged.

“I'm sorry, America. “I'm so, so sorry…”

“I- I just thought of it like boarding school. That you'd come and get me.” She wedged her gaze up to his, smiling. “My dyslexia is even gone.”

“Great!” He still didn't know what that was.

There was a soft pause. “I'm still really sleepy.”

“Oh- yeah.” He went to stand, small arms holding him tight.

“Please don't go.”

Not when she pleaded like that. Never. He settled down, closing his eyes. America was his everything.

He reached in his pocket, a soft smile on his lips. “Hey, you want a picture to add to your frames, really fast?”

“Yeah!” She perked accepting the photo. “Is- is that a ghost? And Lawrence?” She crowed in awe.

“Yeah. He helped me get here. He's… he's a really good friend.”

America grinned. “I wanna be a really good friend like him, then.”

Jane chuckled, baring the pain of small fingers digging into his pressure points while she climbed on him to put the picture away. 

“Go to sleep, America. I won't go anywhere.”

“Thanks, Dad… for coming back, you know.” She nuzzled her face into his chest, his large hand resting on her spine.

 

August 14th, 1984, 7 am.

Jane sighed, his body relaxed. He hadn't been this relaxed in a long while.

When Daisy-May opened the door, he was ridged again.

“Uh-oh. Hello, Mister Doe… I was coming’ to get America up.”

The man turned to face her. “You fixed her… whatchamacallit?”

The woman made a face, blinking when she understood. “Dyslexia?”

“Yeah.” He grunted.

“Well, yes, but… I want you to do something for me, after you've showered and had some breakfast. No point workin’ on empty.” She smiled, America groaning and rolling onto her father.

“Is there bacon?”

“Nope. Sausages today. Them little ones you love.” That seemed to do the trick. America shot up and rummaged in her dressers, snatching clothes and ducking to the bathroom.

Jane let out a laugh, probably looking like a loon. His feet hung over the edge of her bed, and the soft colors didn't quite match such an intimidating man, didn't they?

“Uh, Mister Doe?”

“Mm?”

“Where are your shoes? I ain't seen ‘em.”

His humor was replaced with embarrassment. “Ah, they…are in Lawrence's van.”

She nodded. “Why?”

Jane sniffed. “If you have children of your own, shoes won't seem like such a deal, Daisy-May. I assure you.”

She smiled. “I bet. I hope I get a kid like America. Such a sweetheart. I…” She shrugged those dainty shoulders of hers. “I’m glad to see you back, Mister Doe. She needs ya.”

He nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “I'm glad to be with her.”

She left the room, patting the door frame as she slipped away.

Jane leaned against the wall, grunting as he stood. He had clothes in Lawrence's van. He'd be in and out, so he didn't wake the lanky man.

“Hey, mate.”

Oh. “Lawrence.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, the thick denim fraying at the bottoms.

“Left your stuff. Brought it in.”

“Ah, thanks.” Jane frowned. “I was gonna go get it.”

“Ah, it's nothing.” He raised his coffee cup. “Ya got a gal to see.”

“And when did you start being so social, Mick?” Dell snickered.

“When I saw Jane on a motel sidewalk starin’ at moths.” The Aussie countered. “Can't be an arse when that's what ya see.”

“Good point.” Dell flipped the egg over, careful not to burst the yolk. “Take a seat, Jane.”

He did, accepting the coffee. It was strong, and sort of sluggish looking. The south had shitty coffee, and it was a fact.

“I- Dell?”

“Yes'sir?”

“Can I use your phone?” The stout man turned.

“You got someone to call?” It wasn't a rude tone, but it made Jane uncomfortable.

“A friend. Moses Moss. Worked with me at the factory I was in.”

“Go ‘head. It's a bit staticy though. Damn things as old as I am. Never got around to changin’ it…” Dell leaned to the fridge, slapping a sticky note back into place. It had been there long enough that the adhesive was giving away. He pointed into the laundry room that hung off the kitchen, another small bathroom between the two rooms. Jane dialed, muscle memory thinking for him.

“Moss.”

“Doe.”

“Well shit, Jane? If you're callin’ me cause you gave up I'm fuckin’ hangin’ up!”

“No- no! I made it. I wanted… I wanted you to know.”

Moses laughed. “Crazy bastard. Howdah hell you get there so fast?”

“An old friend of mine. Found me and carted me here.”

“Lucky bastard.” Moses slapped something, probably his knee like he did often.

“How's Jacob?”

“Lil’ brat is gonna get tall. Started eatin’ her outta house and home. It's only gonna get worse too.” The man cackled gleefully. “Bitch is gonna lose that bright shiny car!”

Jane laughed a bit. “Too bad I can't see it.”

“Man, if I had one of them tape recorders I'd mail ya a copy.”

“Just enjoy it for the both of us.”

“Easy.” The man paused, a child's voice over lapping his. “Jacob's here. Call me again, Doe. I wanna know the fuckin’ beans.”

“Cause you gossip like a church grandma.”

“Suck a fat one.” Moses scolded lamely. “Later, Jane.”

“Tell Jacob I said hey. Later.”

He hung up, Lawrence missing from the table.

“He took your shower cause it was open.” Dell explained, setting a plate down. “Wasn't a long call.”

“Moses has a kid too. Jacob. He's gonna have a growth spurt soon. He's waiting for his wife to have to sell her car. One of those fancy sportsport cars.”

“Aw hell. Poor kid.” Dell smirked. “You rootin’ for her losing it too?”

Jane was silent for a moment, smiling at the shorter man. “Affirmative.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Notes on the bottom to keep you on your toes! This was done on mobile so, oopsie.
> 
> So my long time not posting wasn't (only) laziness. I had been trying to craft a story board. I want this story to be coherent and pleasant to read. Something to actually enjoy instead of something people read to pass time.
> 
> But enough bitching on my part. If you like this please do leave a Kudo. Makes me feel good, although that's about it.


	6. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's short, but if I put anything else in, it would kill the flow I think. The other chapters are approx. 2000 words, this one is around 1600, so not a huge difference, but it's about a whole page on Docs which of course makes me judge myself. Fun fact, we're on page 42 in Docs, making this the second longest thing I've written. I have about 60+ pages to top the other though...
> 
> Hope you all like it though. Also, to address the comments again, you all are too good to me. I don't think I've gotten this much praise on a story ever. 
> 
> Have a good day, lads!

August 16th, 1984

Jane was, in basic terms, exploring the property. America was studying, so it wasn’t like he had anything to do. He had been placed in an office upstairs, with a blocky computer he had only ever seen in a library. It had an apple on the back, but he had no clue how to use it. So he didn’t. He had a nice view if the empty field and the large forest once he peeked past the monitor, and the desire to be out there grew.

Lawrence had disappeared somewhere, not that it was surprising. Jane figured that the man would never not suddenly disappear without a word. It was in his blood to be outdoors, and Jane couldn’t fault the man.

Jane, however, he… he wanted to belong somewhere. Like Dell in a lab, or Tavish in a pub, or Misha in a college. He wanted to have that. When someone looked at him and said, ‘You really fit in here!’ with shiny, happy eyes.

Walking past a plump cow, Jane kept his gaze on the woods. What would he find? Leaves, spiders, weird cultists? Actually, he didn’t want to see cultists. Then he’d have to move America away. Or get back into rifle work, but he hadn’t used one in a long time.

Rifle work, he did miss, Jane decided. He missed twirling it and wearing that crisp uniform. The white gloves that made his hands look important, and the cap that kept the sun out of his eyes. He wasn’t a tomb guard for very long. He missed it. The soothing counting. 21 steps, wait, 21 steps, wait, repeat. After the war with Germany, in 1948, he was stationed there. They hadn’t realized his documents weren’t filled out incorrectly. Or if they did, they didn’t worry about it. He didn’t have to read.

He was one of the first to patrol those 63 inches and he was proud of it.

Jane wondered why he was dropped. Was it because of his solo rampage?

Nah, it just proved he adored his country, right? A true patriot would be a secret ally. Even if no one said he could be. That’s why it was a secret! The fuckin' government didn’t understand. They did alright, but they could step back a bit. Get their noses out of every little thing. If the army wanted to hire a man who couldn’t read, why did they have to stop him? He was physically able, Jane just needed someone to read to him! That’s all!

He didn’t trust himself with certain, important papers. Because he knew his weaknesses. He couldn’t read too well. Or maybe no one else knew how to write and he was the only one who could read? That seemed likely too.

Jane stepped over a bush that tickled his legs through his jeans, watching his step. Dell warned him about red ants here, and he didn’t want to find out why they put the man in such a mood. Something about fiery bites. Like Pyro with magic teeth.

He lost track of time. It occurred to him when he couldn't hear or smell the cows anymore. He wasn’t counting his steps or counting seconds. But there was a stream in front of him, with its cold, clear water. Jane could say he didn’t mind not counting. He’d been alone for a year, it was hard being around them all. It was fine with Lawrence, the man sometimes just sort of faded from existence. Daisy-May talked often though, and Dell kept looking at him like he was looking at a puzzle.

Jane wasn’t a puzzle though. He wasn’t oddly shaped and made a picture. He was just a man.

And being just a man, sort of hurt.

He wanted to be…

More.

Jane wanted to be the best soldier the world had ever seen. Or, he had. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He wanted America to be proud of him. He wanted to see her grow. To watch her grow and find a suitable man and have some grandkids maybe.

But that was civilian stuff, wasn’t it? When she grows older and realized how sick he is, would she even let him see her kids? Would she still call him every day? Or tell him she loved him and he was the best? To make burnt cakes that made him gag on his birthday?

He’d make sure she would. He’d never make it if she didn’t.

Jane sat, pulling his sore feet free from his boots. He peeled his socks free, scowling at the blisters that were forming. Maybe, if Dell paid him, he’d get some new boots. Ones that didn’t have broken backs that rubbed against his ankles. And some nicer socks, with only a hole to put his feet into. Not all over the bottom and ankles.

He slid his feet in the stream, pleased to find the water warmed from the sun. It was still a little chilly, but it felt good. Occasionally, a tiny fish would touch his foot though, and he didn’t quite like that. It was… If ugly had a feeling, perhaps that would be it.

A broken twig didn’t startle him, but it did catch his attention.

“Hello?” Jane whispered, glaring across the water.

Large, brown eyes were the first thing he saw. Wide and inquiring. Three sets of them. Then followed round pointed ears and hooves. Speckled fur and a single set of tiny antlers.

Deer. A mother and two young ones. He grimaced a bit as they lapped up the water, but he supposed his feet sweat was long washed off.

Jane leaned on his hands, withdrawing his legs and setting his feet on a lightly too-warm, dry rock. A snort behind him made his neck hurt as he swiveled to look at the source.

The buck. A proud looking 13 point stag with his head slightly lowered.

Jane reached in his pocket slowly, fingers tightening. There was a small pocket knife-

But…

But he didn’t… need to kill it. He didn’t need to fight it or yell at it. Jane turned to look at the doe, her ears twitching.

He was protecting his fawn. Like he protected his.

Jane withdrew his hand, ignoring the threatening snort. Reaching in his other pocket, he withdrew a pack of smashed crackers that were a tad too stale to really enjoy. The package crinkled and crackled, deafening in the quiet. He held a cracker up, the buck unmoving.

Very slowly, it lowered its large head, slobber covering his hand as it took the treat. With what was maybe a nod, the doe and fawn returned to drinking, the buck standing near him with his chest extended.

Like it was proud. ‘Haha, the human is so scared it gave me food!’

Jane passed another cracker over, his hand moistening. It was like… a big horse dog. The buck lowered its massive body, antlers brushing against the top of Jane’s skull. They felt like they were covered in felt. Like the material, not feeling a feeling. Jane sighed, English was hard sometimes. It made his head hurt, homophones.

He lost track of time again. He just knew he was out of crackers and his hand was gross. The buck loomed next to him, fawn playing.

Jane remembered something. Dell gave him a cell phone, maybe he should look at it? It made a loud beep, his head ringing as the antler swung toward him and slammed against his forehead. The doe and the babies were tense, Jane snatching the cell with a scowl.

It was chunky and heavy, and fell out of his pocket when he sat down. He almost wished it fell into the river.

“Hello?”

“Jane-”

“Shh! Whisper!” Jane snapped.

“Whisper? Jane are ya in trouble? Where are ya, partner?”

“I am at a stream. With deer.

“What? Deer?”

“Affirmative. There is a buck right next to me. He hit me with his antlers.”

“That- that’s… good?” Dell didn’t sound like he believed him, and it stung. “You know what time it is?”

Shit, he knew he was going to be scolded. “...No.”

“It’s 1 in the afternoon. Just, come on home, Jane.”

With a sigh, Jane relented. “Fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“See ya then.”

“Right.” Jane hit the hang-up button, heart squeezing. He was angry at Dell, but… he didn’t know why. It made him feel petty, weak; But he didn’t just get angry over nothing!

He stood slowly, the buck standing on strong but agile legs.

“I gotta go.” He looked the to buck. “Goodbye, John.” He looked to the doe, thinking. “Your name is Lily now. John liked flowers… and, he’d have kids... “ His throat tightened. “Anna and… and Keith... “

His brother John.

He wasn’t a buck. But Jane could pretend. Maybe it was John and he didn’t know? Yeah, that sounded nice.

But he didn’t want to leave. To be alone. He was alone. America was his child, not… she wasn’t the same as a friend. He was alone. John, Zhanna, Liberty, for all he knew Misha and Hans, Misha’s two sisters-

His hands grew cold and tight. There wasn’t anything like it. Being alone with people. His breathing picked up, eyes stinging. His father was why John was gone. Why Jane was alone.

He- he hated…

With a scream from Jane, the Doe fled.

August 16th, 1984...

Dell opened the door, eyes falling on the carcass of the buck. “Damn, that’s a mighty one! How’d ya tag him, Jane?”

The soldier shrugged, adjusting the zip up jacket he wore. “I would like to shower.”

“Oh, uh, sure thing partner. I’ll take this to the barn and cut ‘em up. Sells nice ‘round here. Might fine work, Jane. Whatever he sells for is yours. ‘Bout time I had somethin’ to barbecue though!” Dell laughed. 

Jane grinned as politely as he could, stepping past him.

Jane sobbed in the shower when he couldn’t hear footsteps outside the door. The small knife sat on the floor of the tub, the white stained pink with watered down blood.

Once again, he felt alone. He suspected he'd feel this way often.


	7. Restless Roamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I have got to start writing with my glasses on. I never use them and I ought to. I only really need them to read, though. These might even come out faster if I did what I had to.
> 
> It's too bad I probably won't, knowing myself.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter lads. I really enjoy writing dialog, and there's a good bit of talking here. Like, a good bit.
> 
> Majority.

August 17th, 1984

Jane found himself restless. Not surprisingly, he was a man with a need for activity. While America studied, he was at the stream. Or currently following Dell like some sort of dog. But that was a new addition. Currently, they were at a pub for lunch, Jane’s pockets full of cash from the buck. It made his stomach curl unpleasantly when he thought about it.

“Dell, can I be put to work yet?” Jane asked softly, smashing a fry against his plate.

The other man looked up. “I ain’t got nothin’ for you to do yet, partner.” He folded his arms over the table. “Not for another month.”

Oh, how that made him ill. “Nothing at all?” Jane asked, cringing at how pathetic it sounded. Dell knew he was sick, he didn’t need to act tough, did he? He trusted Dell, sort of. It had been a long time, they had both changed. It was hard, trusting him. It was hard to trust anyone.

“Sorry, Jane.” Dell frowned, guilt on his features. “I mean, ya can help me tend to the cows, but there ain’t much to do. I just breed ‘em and sell ‘em. It’s hard not gettin’ attached to the big-eyed ladies.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “I remember our first cow. I spent so much time with her I even named her. Well, come to her sellin’ date and I bawled.”

Jane nodded. “I remember having feelings like that.” He muttered. They were for people though. Not that he’d say that. Not yet.

Dell rested his head on his hand. “Maybe ya just need the time?”

Jane looked up, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Dell turned a tad red. “I’m sayin’, maybe the time to yourself is good for ya. After I did all my PHDs, I found myself, uh…” He rolled his free hand. “Lost. I needed time to find myself. Sounds ridiculous, but it did me good.”

Jane wasn’t lost, and he couldn’t help but feel anger at the insinuation. “I don’t need to find myself. I need to work.”

Dell sighed. “Well, you’ll have to wait either way.” He sat up, both palms on the table. “I really don’t have anything to do. I use the cows as a moment to myself. Daisy-May and America always come askin’ me questions.” Jane’s pride shriveled into an extremely dry raisin. “I don’t know everything. America- Always askin’ me about moral things. Hell, it’s a wonder Daisy-May ain’t a sociopath! Irene was a good woman though.”

“And… what does America ask you?” Jane stared at him, daring him to ignore him.

Dell shrugged. “Why do people hurt each other? Why do people go ‘round stealin’ and shit? I dunno.” The shorter man shook his head. “I tell her it’s wrong, but it doesn’t answer her question.”

Jane frowned. “People hurt each other,” He rolled his shoulders. “Because they feel like they have to. Because it makes them feel like they solved a problem. They don’t think about what happens after. They see an answer, but it’s the wrong one.” He clenched his fists. “They steal because they don’t have an answer. They kill because they need purpose. They need to feel but they don’t know what to do to feel the way they need.”

Dell’s lips were pinched a bit, his brows furrowed as he thought. Jane looked out the old, foggy window, forcing his hands to go limp.

“Do… do ya think about it often?”

Jane sighed through his nose. “I’ve done it. Just took too long to realize why I did it.” He turned to Dell, a scowl on his lips. “And look where it got me. I thought about it so I could give her an answer and she’d never make the mistakes I did.”

The engineer’s face turned to a pained smile. “Irene would say the same things. Never finished high school. I wonder if wisdom is for those folk who don’t spend too much time in books.”

Jane shrugged. “It comes from living. School is safe, comfortable. They tell you facts, and if Moses is right, they tell you the morals they want you to have. You should do this, and should think this. Moses is wiser than me, I think.” Jane sniffed. “Or maybe he just sees things a little too closely. Never asked.”

“Sounds like a good man.”

“He put pickled eggs on one of those toy airplanes and would turn it so they popped on people.” Jane scoffed. “He’s no saint. Loves pissing people off more than living.” Jane was a victim of one of the fermented eggs. A fistfight later, they were good friends. Jane obviously won the fight, and he had almost forgotten it. Moses just laughed it off, his nose leaking blood. Said it was how men bonded.

“Pickled eggs? Sonofabitch!” He let out a wheezing laugh. “Might have to do that myself.”

Jane scowled. “Unless you know someone else with a little airplane, I wouldn’t do it.”

Dell raised his glass. “Good point. Too easy to catch.”

The two men shared a grin, Jane sighing. “Are you really sure you don’t have work for me?”

“When it gets warmer, I will. Why don’t ya spend time with America? I know when you’re hidin’.”

The ex-soldier grunted. “I… I worry. I fear she thinks of me differently. Or that she’s gonna be afraid of me.”

Dell hummed. “Well, you know the answer to that first one is, absolutely not,” He clasped his hands together, brows furrowing like he was staring at a complicated blueprint. “That second one sounds like your mind, not her’s. What are ya scared of, Jane?”

The man puffed his chest out. “I’m not. I'm not scared of a fuckin’ thing.”

Dell’s brows climbed upward. “Really? Nothin’ at all?” He leaned forward, testing him. “You’ve been avoiding me. You’re the only one who ain’t been nosey ‘round the house or been askin’ personal questions. You’ve been in them woods instead of talkin’ to an old colleague. I ain’t stupid. I know somethin’s goin’ on in that head of yours, but I know you don’t wanna admit it.”

His chest squeezed and his face felt hot. “Are… are you threatening me?”

The shorter man backed off, sighing. “No, Jane. I ain’t. Now calm down a smidge.” The engineer waved a hand at the other’s plate. “You gotta eat more. I know you could eat a horse and then some.”

Jane opened his mouth and shut it, snatching another fry. He wouldn’t tell him about not eating often. It hurt his pride too much. Well, almost. In a way, he was proud his body grew used to not eating often, once every few days at work cause it was free. He was a good father, feeding America first. But eating now? It almost made him sick. He wanted to eat everything in his grasp but he couldn’t eat more than Spy anymore. And the Frenchman was slim! Lawrence was one of those odd people that could eat whatever and just not get fat. Maybe it had something to do with his walking off? Secret aerobics?

“I lose ya, Jane?”

“No!” Jane ducked his head, knowing there was an embarrassed blush on his face.

“Look,” Dell started slowly, thinking. “I wanna be pals again. It’s why I invite everyone over. But, ya never said nothin’. Ya left. I…” His lips were in a thin line for a moment. “Ya confuse me, Jane. We all know you’re, ah, were,” He corrected. “Were a bullheaded fool. Ya were smart in somethings and not in others. And now, well… You’re more rounded. Mature in a way ya weren’t. But you still don’t talk. You just, let things exist. And that worries me.”

Jane felt like a child, his chest throbbing uncomfortably. “I couldn’t be stupid. I had to be smart for America.”

“But you gotta be honest too. I get not wantin’ to tell your lil’ girls things. I didn’t wanna tell Daisy-May I cut off my hand. She still thinks it’s a work thing.” Dell sighed. “Guess it’s one of those dirty half-truths. But, I’m an adult. And you are too. We watched each other die. I want ya to trust me again. And… I wanna trust you again. I wanna meet the new Jane Doe.”

Jane nodded slowly, glancing out the window. He didn’t want to be indoors. He didn’t want to be near people anymore.

“I know it ain’t easy, after so long. But we all missed ya. Even Jean-Claude. Err, Spy.” Dell shrugged. “If that’s his real name.”

“C-could we…”

Dell paused. “What?”

Jane looked outside again. His words clogged his tight throat, his blood feeling cold. “Could-”

“Jane, what are ya lookin’ at?” Dell’s voice dragged away. “Jane?”

What was wrong with him now? He couldn’t take a simple conversation? What kind of weak little flower was he? Women were like this! Fragile and needed comforting. He couldn't- He didn’t have the time-

“Jane, let’s head home, yeah?”

He nodded, his head hung low. The laughter in the pub sounded like it was against him. They were laughing at him. Maybe they really were. Seeing a grown man cry. Being weak. Laughing at him because he was a sick failure.

The snap of a car door made him flinch.

“Jane?”

Dell’s voice was so loud. His ears were ringing.

“Jane, talk to me-”

“Just shut up!” The man slammed his head on his knees, fighting the urge to puke. He sucked in air, tears making his knees feel damp and gross.

“Jane, just breathe would ya? What’s goin’ on with ya?” Dell asked, his voice oddly soft.

Jane shook his head, flinching as the truck started.

“Let’s get ya home. Ya can sleep on the couch. Daisy-May wanted to take America to the movies when they finished studying. Ain’t nobody gotta see ya.”

Jane nodded. He wanted the quiet.

His head squeezed and loosened, mind foggy. It felt like hours had passed. But the farmhouse looked like a mansion. It was an old plantation house, he knew that, but those were sort of mansions.

The truck’s brakes were thankfully silent, Dell marching around the truck to open the door. Lawrence’s van was-

“Hey come on.” Dell pulled him a little roughly, bracing as Jane’s knees gave out.

The screen door squealed open, Lawrence standing on the porch.

“Oi, mate is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine! Had one too many at the pub. Turns out Jane hasn’t been drunk inna long time.” Dell lied flawlessly, allowing Jane’s head to hang low.

“Ain’t even 5! I’ll get some water and some of them tablets. Whatever they’re called.” Lawrence grumbled lazily, patting Jane’s back as he passed.

Dell let the man flop on the couch, sparing a concerned look. It quickly vanished as Lawrence returned.

“Thanks, partner.”

“No biggie. Done that myself! Hey, so I was thinkin’ of headin’ out for a bit. Before the team got here.”

Dell looked at Jane. The soldier’s heart stopped. There was something in that blue gaze. Like when he looked at Daisy-May.

“Let’s go in the kitchen so he can sleep before the ladies come back.”

“Oh, yeah that’s good. Have a good nap, mate.” Lawrence’s palm slapped against the back of the couch, the man not bothering to take a peek at him. He was a lot kinder than he’d ever say. Jane found himself liking the man more than he had long ago. He wished he hadn’t been so damn stupid. He could have found a great friend.

In Dell too, he supposed. Covering for him like that. He probably didn’t actually seem drunk. But… after so long maybe…

Jane closed his eyes, ignoring the way Zhanna scolded him.

“You must not drink so much! It is not fair!” She’d say. “Brother will have to get in competition, and then we have no more vodka!”

“Maybe that’s for the best.” He’d joke. “You can’t drink when you’re pregnant.”

“I am Russian! I can drink with hole in throat. Easy.”

He could almost feel a soft kiss on his forehead. But that just made his headache worse.


	8. A Little More Manly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH okay here's the chapter. I've gotten my head on a little straighter (for now). This chapter was hard to write, and I fear it's noticeable. But hopefully, it's still good. But as a warning, Jane says 'queer' in reference to a gay character. This isn't meant to be too derogatory, but more as an older man trying to understand using words he's heard through his life. Forgive my son, but I had ran through the lines a bunch, and that one fit the best. I personally don't think it's as bad as some other words, but I know it can upset a few folk. So, if upsets you, here's a little warning.
> 
> You wanna know what a Tachometer is? No? Too bad, keep reading and you'll find out. Facts are good for ya.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by.
> 
>  
> 
> Man, no more ugly Author Note that makes me look like a baby. How refreshing!

August 18th, 1984

Jane’s body began to feel sluggish. He was, dare he say it, bored. With nothing to do, he just sat and walked around the yard. Poked some cows, ran from the bull, played cards with America who was whisked into studying shortly after.

He tried the computer, but the keyboard’s clicking was setting him on edge. What was he supposed to do?

Bored didn’t work for him. To be left alone and think about anything and everything. It drove him mad. It would start innocently enough. A dinner plan, or a shopping list. Then it would fall apart. Like the idea could melt in his hands, quite like a chocolate bar. It would turn to perhaps a prank or a statement someone said, then something he did.

Then anguish and guilt.

Being alone didn’t work for Jane. He was a strong man, but even the strongest of men had a weakness. Not that he’d ever say so. But being alone in the war, being alone in those cold winters with gunfire deafening even his loudest thoughts… It broke a man.

With a hiss, he rose from the old chair. Dell needed a new one if he didn’t want his spine looking like an old noodle later.

Socked feet were quiet against the carpeted floors, his hand gliding against smooth wood as he descended. It was cold. But in a comforting way. His hands felt like they were burning, sweaty but somehow dry.

“Jane! You’re up!” Dell looked past the newspaper laid across the table, a smile on his lips.

It made his heart ache.

He picked up his pen, chuckling. “C’ mere for a sec, now that you’re up. I’ve got all those pHs.Ds in math and science but damn if I don’t suck at crosswords. I think I think of too many and miss the point.”

Jane nodded. “I’m not good at spelling.” Why would he want his help? Wasn’t he still a bumbling moron to him?

“Don’t matter. It’s something short but it’s a work for displeasure I guess. I can’t think of nothing that short- 3 letters.”

Jane tsked, shaking his head. It’s not like he would have-

“Ah hell! You’re right!” Jane raised his brows at the other, trying not to look like he was so surprised.

“Tsk. Well, that’s more a sound and not a word, but it fits. Makes sense here too… Tachometer.”

“A what meter?”

“Well, if ya ever look at the speed dial on a car dash, it’s one of them. Used to measure rotation speed.”

“Oh.” Well, what a useless fact! It was sort of interesting but it wouldn’t get him too far in life, would it?

Dell sighed, rubbing his face. Those eyes locked forward and Jane wished he was blind. They were looking for something. But what? Should he leave?

“Jane, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Of course. As if he hadn’t made it clear, “Work.” Of course, there was more. Like if Dell liked fruity alcohol or if his father would have tried to kill the man. Dell would probably just end his father.

Did it matter?

“And you got a while til-”

“Anything! Even cleaning the house.” Jane pleaded softly, ears seeming to pick up on America’s soft voice. She didn’t need to know. Need-to-know basis, as small as he could manage… Like when he had a girl friend and his father was still alive...

“Jane ya ain’t cleaning my house.”

“Why not?” He growled softly, leaning forward. “Why can’t I have a single fucking thing to do? I sit here and do nothing! What am I supposed to do?”

Dell’s jaw squared. “I don’t like your damn tone. Fix it.”

There was a moment of quiet, both with tense shoulders and tight jaws. The ex-soldier deflated, eyes downcasting toward the table.

"All I do is think. I need something to do. Anything."

Dell was quiet, rounded face tight and calculating. Jane would of course silently compliment it. Dell, despite his height and body, was a man's man. And it was obvious. Even when he was polite and soft-spoken, the feeling of a storm, just on the outer edge of Jane's senses…

A puzzle. Jane was sadly no good at puzzles. And his heart deflated. The sharp pain of knowing he'd fail.

"Jane, I ain't ever know what goes on in that head of your's." Dell didn't give him a chance to explain. "I ain't gonna ask. It ain't my place. But… that party is gonna be soon. And well, Lawrence, bless his heart, can't do a damn color-by-number."

Jane felt the need to tell him that Lawrence and him were very alike then.

"So, why don't ya help me get stuff ready for the party? You can run errands and help me cook."

Jane nodded, a soft smile forming. "Yes, sir."

"Aw shucks. I'm still Dell now." The other relaxed, warmth filling his features. "C' mon. We got some lovely ladies to feed."

Jane was up in a heartbeat. "Burgers!"

"I was thinkin' grilled chicken myself, but it's been a while. Let's see how ya do burgers then."

"I only make the best burgers you'll have ever had! You'll be begging on your knees for my recipe!"

Dell only smirked. "You don't have one do ya? You eyeball it."

"Perhaps…"

“Well, ain’t a problem. Let’s see what we got!” Dell kept his spices in the fridge like a weirdo, but Jane wouldn’t share that with the man. He’d just secretly hate how it looked.

There was a moment of quiet as Jane pulled spices out and dumped them in a bowl of ground beef.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?”

Dell opened his mouth, closing it slowly. “Nevermind.”

Oh, how it made him nervous. “What?”

Dell looked over, shaking his head.

“What?” The taller man pressed softly, but desperately.

The Texan sighed. “Ah, ‘member back at the base, Pyro had us tell stories about our families. Ya… Ya never said anything. I was thinkin’ about it… Have a photo book. Scout gave it ta me.”

Jane had one before too. He burned it when he saw a very young America open it. He cried that night but she didn’t need to know. Perhaps it was a waste, seeing as she’d know who they were. Or maybe because she wouldn’t know what they were, it would be fine?

“Well, you looked, hurt.” Dell continued softly. “An’... ya ain’t gotta tell me, but- but do ya think maybe it’s why…”

Jane blinked a few times. “Maybe.” He wanted to puke at the sound of the meat. He’d heard sounds like it, under his boots. His back grew cold with sweat, hands clammy.

“I know bad parents make bad kids but…” Dell sighed. “We ain’t bad parents, are we?”

Jane’s mind blanked. Were they?

“I love my girl with all my heart, I try to do what’s right by her. Hell, I fell in love with America too. As one of my own, ya know? Real peach she is. But, I dunno if I do enough for them.”

There was a fire within him. “Do they know you love them?”

“I- I think?”

“Do you know it?” Jane asked, softer, stronger.

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re the best parent you can be.”

“Is it enough?”

“Prolly.” Lawrence made the two jump, a very grumpy cat upon his shoulders. “Forget I was here?”

“Would’ ya blame us if we did?” Dell laughed, working the meat into patties.

“Nah.”

“Why don’t you have a woman?” Jane asked suddenly, the Aussie blinking owlishly.

The man shrugged. “Ah well, we’re all… pals. Yeah?”

Dell and Jane shared a look.

“I ain’t uh… into ‘em. I tried to be but… I ain’t.”

Jane blinked. “You’re a queer?”

“Well... yeah…” Lawrence turned red. "Gay." 

Dell suddenly smirked. “Bet it was a certain frog we know-”

“Nah! Nah! Nn-o that’s not how it- uh- Lily needed water-” The man fumbled in the sink with a large canteen, his cat hissing at his sharp shuffling. “Later!”

The door slapped shut, Dell letting out a wheezing laugh. 

Did it matter if he liked men? Sure it was… odd, but he was still the best shot he’d ever seen. And a good pal. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal? Like Demo being black.

“What’s so funny?”

Dell turned the stovetop on, a warm, blue flame licking the bottom of a square pan. “I know it was Spy that made him realize it.”

“Really?” Jane asked in awe.

“Yup. Was drinkin’ in my lab, havin’ a right hissy fit ‘bout something. Said he learned Lawrence was into men. Said somethin’ about trying to get outta sneakin’ ‘round and gettin’ him to France.”

Jane was struggling to put it together. He knew Hans and Misha were sorts of… well, gay and Spy was just a big girl, but... 

Was he gay? 

Did gays make good soldiers?

Did…

Did gays have a secret fighting style he doesn’t know about?

“Jane, you alright?”

“I need to learn how queers fight.” He ignored the laughter, rushing toward Lawrence’s van.

“Jane!” Said man froze. “He’s gonna think your makin’ fun of him.”

Oops.

“Come sit down.”

Jane sat. Dell flipped a burger, turning back to the soldier.

“Tell me ‘bout your father, Jane.”

Why?

“What’cha mean, why?”

Shit, he said it out loud! “Why… do you want to know?”

Dell shrugged. “Just wanna know. Ya don’t seem to like him much. Just wanna know why.”

There was a searching look. Like Hans with a body. He wanted something greater from the story Jane could tell.

Trust. Openness. Weakness?

But it was Dell. He… he loved Dell.

Jane relaxed his face, a stinging between his brows.

“I don’t like my father. My mother… She was the strongest woman you’d have ever seen. Zhanna reminded me of her. Powerful, bright. A smile that made God’s light look dim.” Jane scoffed a bit. “Both taken from me.”

Dell grabbed his hand and he felt his heart jump and jolt.

“I… I loved them both. But my father… I don’t want to be him. I have nightmares that I’ll be him. That’s I’ll hurt America as he hurt me.”

Dell bit his lip for a moment. “What’d he do?”

Jane scowled, horror overcoming his features. Dell pulled his collar back, the button-up hiding a vicious burn. Dell never showered with them. If he did he was always on the far left, his back turned ever so slightly.

“Never did that…” There was a moment of hesitation, Jane slowly reaching out. His fingers traced over the burns. A branding.

“Ain’t gotta be the same thing. Still hurts us.” Dell smiled a tad. It was bitter, like rich coffee. Attractive, but dark.

“He named me Jane cause he thought I was a girl. Too small to be a man. I grew late. Always said he was right ‘bout callin’ me Jane.” His throat was tight. “I named America the way I did… My mother’s name was Liberty. I wasn’t her to be even better. America… I- He-”

Jane lifted his arm out and pinched his thumb to his index and middle finger.

“Drugs?” Dell asked softly.

“He liked to throw them at me sometimes. Sometimes they stuck me.”

Dell made a soft noise. “That’s why Doc’s morphine ain’t ever do much for ya.”

Jane nodded. “I had a brother. John.”

Dell looked up, face contorting. “You ain’t gotta go any farther.”

Jane swallowed, scrubbing his eyes roughly. “Thanks.”

The engineer turned back to the pan, discarding the burnt burger with a soft huff. “Welp, that ain’t a good one. Alway  
s forgettin’ things.”

Jane raised his brows. Dell remembered everything. Anything.

But he focused more intensely than anyone Jane knew. That focus was on him.

And that gave him a spark of joy he didn’t expect to get. Yet, there was an urge, like at Zhanna and his wedding. She was beautiful. Soft but strong. With plump lips and wide, dark eyes. Beauty.

Beautiful.

Ah. That’s what it was!

He wanted to kiss Dell.

Jane stood and got closer, staring down at the other man. The Texan looked up, a faint smile pulling upon his lips. They were thinner than Zhanna’s, rougher no doubt.

“I ain’t gonna burn this one, ya know.”

Jane leaned closer, holding the other’s face. He was soft like Zhanna, but not quite in the same way.

“Jane..?”

With a soft inhale, Jane pressed his lips to Dell’s.


	9. A Kiss to Build Something On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took so long and I'm sorry. I kept trying this one over and over. It was either too forward or too robotic. But, after perhaps too much time listening to music and making tiny movies in my brain, I have made a passible scene. Hopefully.
> 
> I'm a tryhard when it comes to dialog. I know it's not perfect, but I really try to make it natural. Hopefully, I didn't overshoot and ruin it.
> 
> And two days until the party. You can see all your favorite Mercs while I struggle to write so many characters. 
> 
> Do enjoy!

August 18, 1984

A punch would have been worse than yelling, but the silence was perhaps the worst outcome. Zhanna has relished in his physical affection. Dell didn't.

He just stared. Like Jane was a puzzle. A jigsaw that when together makes a somewhat gross image.

One brow down, one not. Mouth open just a tad.

"Dell?"

His brows fell. "Why'd ya do that?"

Jane swallowed and it felt like he was choking. "I don't know."

He knew. He knew damn well. It was supposed to be some revealing- something. He could just be… dishonest. He doesn't know. He thought it was fine.

Dell nodded, mouth closing. "Are you uh, like Lawrence, Jane?"

Jane shook his head, which only seemed to make Dell's brows fall further down.

"Well, let's… let's not do that again then. Alright?"

Jane nodded slowly. He wanted to speak but he was afraid of whatever pile of shit that would spew from him. Best not make it worse.

Dell patted his arm, returning to his cooking with a pensive face. He didn't look uncomfortable. He didn't slouch away or twiddle his thumbs or shove Jane away like he was I'll.

Back to normal, then.

Jane stepped back, carefully and quietly returning to his seat.

"Sorry."

Dell only shrugged. "Sometimes we all do… stuff. Just how life is."

Of course. Stuff.

"I should see if America is. Open."

"Right."

"Wants to learn to fish." Jane took another few steps back, the chair legs creaking in protest of the shifts.

Dell gave him another odd look, Jane turning out of the kitchen. He could feel a gaze on his shoulders and neck, cold and calculating.

"Dad!" The voice sounded like it was underwater. Or maybe he was. His vision swam and the little girl on his leg was perhaps a mermaid.

"Let's… let's head to the stream. There are fish-"

She let out a gasp, quickly picking up her scattered books. When did she drop them?

"I'll put my books away!" Her little feet made soft sounds as she darted inside, a faint greeting to Dell in his ear.

"You alright, Mr. Doe?"

Jane flinched, turning to Daisy-May with what he hoped was a regular grin. "I'm alright. Can't wait to show America how to fish is all."

"You got a rod?"

Fuck. "No, I just use heavy sticks. Spearfishing."

She smiled at that. "Neat. No way of 'em runnin' then." She patted his shoulder in a friendly way, heading toward the house. "Oh. Mr. Doe!"

He never really looked away from her.

"It's gonna rain in maybe two, three hours? It's on the horizon." She gestured east, Jane peeking up to see any cancellation slips. They'd have enough time. 

Jane held his arms open as America ran forward, her hands clutching at his neck. He hoisted her up easily, her body leaning forward so she made a talkative hat.

He knew she shouldn't catch anything. No bloody water or fish gutting just yet. Perhaps when she was older, but for now, to satiate her curiosity and to feel the comfort of cool stream water on her feet. There was something peaceful to just standing there. It could stay comfortable if one didn't forget to catch the fish.

It was perhaps the only thing Jane and his father had done together.

"It's gonna rain soon, kiddo. You'll have to be quick and careful if you wanna get in the water."

"Why can't I use my hands?"

Jane laughed a bit. "Fish are stronger than they look. They're slippery too. Wiggly.”

America nodded, untying her shoes. She set them aside, pulling her socks off and stuffing them in the shoes. Jane handed her a stick, clicking his tongue to catch her attention.

“Gotta have a spear.”

“Ohhh. That’s a stick though.”

Jane shrugged. “Anything can be spear if you’re careful. Watch.”

He snapped it in half, holding out a small pocket knife. She watched in awe, small hand reaching for the blade.

“Hey- Hey! Watch first. This is pointy, and you can hurt yourself with it. Got it?”

Her hand retracted, but her face was still determined. She watched carefully, hair having to be constantly swiped from her view. A haircut later then.

“I’ll let you try, but you can’t ever use this knife if I’m not around, alright?”

“Yeah.” She took it carefully, Jane hating the way it looked. She’d need to learn to use it. Just in case. But… the things he’d done with that pocket knife. Perhaps he should have got her a new one. Something duller, shorter. A swiping weapon more than a stabbing one. Like… like the safety scissors of knives.

She dug at the stick slowly though, just as he had done. She took off paper-thin chunks, the point slowly forming into something reminiscent of a dull pencil. But she was proud of it.

Jane sharpened the end for her, the faint rumbling of thunder evicting a loud groan from America.

“We’re gonna have to go back…” She muttered. “It’s gonna rain.”

Jane nodded. “We’ll keep these. For later.” He tucked them under an up-rooted stump, the pointed sides dug into the soft dirt. “We’ll come back to it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Maybe one day we’ll get rods instead. We can do it properly.”

She shrugged. “It’s proper if it does the job, right?”

“I suppose. But the traditional way is how people do it. With the rods. Spearfishing is more… gruesome I guess.”

“Gruesome?”

“Messy. In a bad way.”

“Oh.” She grabbed her shoes and sat upon his shoulders once more. He didn’t hesitate to jog, not wanting her to get wet. It was a stop-and-go ordeal, moving tree leaves and brush out of the way for a second time.

“We didn’t do much,” America muttered, leaning over him. “Can I make decorations for that party? That way I can color at least.”

“We’ll ask Dell. I’m sure he’ll love whatever you make.”

“Will you?”

“If I had the money, I’d have a fridge for each one of your drawings,” Jane stated, nodding a bit. “I’d spend money on hundreds of magnets so each one can be up there.”

He could tell she was pleased by the way her feet wiggled and her face warmed. Was he the best dad? Perhaps not anymore. But he was still loved. It was enough, he supposed. At least for now.

“Hey Dad, look!”

He glanced toward the small hand, his eyes going past the far expanse of Dell’s farm. 

The rain was approaching in a thick sheet, visible to the eye. It was moving slowly, inching closer and closer to the house.

With a bounce in his step, Jane picked up the pace, running toward the porch.

It wasn’t as slow as it looked, almost engulfing half the property as Jane hopped up the steps. America was let down and rushed inside, no doubt to ask Dell about the decorations. Or to beg a sandwich off the man. She eats often now.

Must be growing, as Moses says.

His fingers sat on the handle to the screen door, the rain singing to him.

With a resigned sigh, Jane sat and crossed his legs, leaning against the house. He watched the wall of rain come closer, pattering upon the roof in only a few moments. But it was relaxing. The animals weren’t in the fields, taking shelter in the various barns. If was just him and him only-

“There ya are.”

Him and Dell.

“Hey.” He glanced over, sweat forming at the base of his neck.

“You uh, coming in for dinner?”

Jane shook his head.

Dell sighed, sitting next to the ex-soldier. His legs didn’t nearly take up as much space as his, Jane noted. He was short, yes, but his height was more in the torso, he supposed.

“Jane, I ain’t mad, you know.”

“You should be.” Jane scowled. “It was wrong of me.”

“I’ll admit I don’t… understand. But I won’t say it’s… wrong. Not really.”

Jane didn’t look at him. He didn’t think he could.

“Would ya kiss me again if I asked?”

His heart stopped. Jane could hardly breathe. “Are you asking?”

“Is that a yes or a no, Jane?”

His voice was strained. “Yeah, maybe I would.”

Dell only nodded. “I knew it. I figured as much.”

“Knew what, exactly?” Jane hissed.

“Knew ya liked me a little more than everyone else. Thought that when you got with Zhanna, maybe it was a phase or just a lack of touch.” Dell sighed, face softening as Jane’s hesitant glance. “It ain’t, is it?”

“I loved Zhanna. I still do.”

“And me?”

Jane bit his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I… Know I’m not supposed to. I don’t know why I did that. I thought… You were just-”

Dell just waited.

“You’re not a woman.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Spy is, you know. Womanly. It makes sense if a man was attracted to him, right? But you’re not.” He stressed. “It doesn’t make sense. I loved Zhanna. I loved how soft she could be, how strong she was. She was smart and brave and would kill bears with her hands! I loved that. I loved her!”

Jane swallowed. “But you’re not like Zhanna. I don’t know why I… I like you like I do. You’re not womanly. You… You probably can’t kill bears with your hands. You’d build something. You would make something that would kill the bear and have it ready to eat in a matter of moments! You’re not soft like she is either. You’re… you’re nothing like her so I don’t… understand.”

Dell let out a soft laugh. “Well, I’ll share a secret with ya. I didn’t like Irene much when we got married. Our parents set us up for it.”

Jane looked over, eyes wide.

“I learned to love her though. And I genuinely did. After a while.” He cracked his knuckles, stalling for time. “Loved how she’d keep me in check and she’d let me ramble on and on about whatever was on my mind. And I loved her when she gave me my lil’ Daisy-May. I don’t think she loved me as much as I did her, though. Think she saw me as an obligation. For her family. Always talkin’ ‘bout her folks. And I listened. Hell, I could tell ya about how much her Uncle Rich loves mayo!

“But she had her kid, and…” Dell made a face. A face of guilt and humor. “She found another man. She died in an accident not long after I got home. I had nothin’ to do with it. Cops thought I did, I didn’t. So I’ve been with Daisy-May. She don’t spend that much time with me.”

He noticed.

Dell looked pained. “She doesn’t come to me like your’s does to you. Mine’s all grown up. Ain’t get a chance to really be there cause some damn war. Ain’t even a real war.”

Jane swallowed, unsure of what to say.

Dell gave him a soft smile though. And his heart squeezed.

“I gotta say, to be actually loved. Feels better than I’d thought. Even if ya… ya don’t wanna go for it. Knowing that’s what you think of me makes me feel amazing, Jane. I’m sorry for spookin’ ya this morning. I didn’t… I didn’t think anyone could. Not lil’ Dell Conagher, who hacked off his own hand for glory.”

There was a moment of silence, Jane unsure of what to do. Being with Tavish? Easy. Lawrence? Easy! Dell, however, was complicated. Hell, Spy was easier for Jane to understand. He liked the finest things life could buy and then some. Spy was sentimental, even he pretended not to be. Jane had seen him take great care for the little aloe plant Hans had got him. And he kept Scout’s baseball cards in a binder. He’d ransack the boy’s room to find ones he didn’t have and would keep them in mint condition to trade for favors. He would read and drink tea and coffee with Misha, chatting and discussing.

Dell didn’t. Dell was homely and would sit silently with you and that was fine. Spy would badger for info constantly. Always chatting. Dell didn’t.

Dell was harder to understand than Spy.

So, with little thought, Jane set his arm on the other man’s shoulders.

“I… I don’t know what to do. I’ve only been with Zhanna. I hadn’t even dated in high school.” Jane chuckled. “I was too damn stupid.” He sighed. “Let’s… Let’s wait until after the party. We’ll see what happens?”

Dell smiled, wrapping his arm around Jane’s waist in a half-assed hug. “We’ll see what happens.”


	10. Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, let me tell you, I made myself wait to write this one. I was gonna just jump in but I was worried I would have forced something in the wrong direction. Had to really think about it. However, I really, really, enjoyed this chapter. And I hope you do too. As we hit a more dense portion of the story, you'll start seeing military time on the dates. It should help show how long it takes Jane to process things and react to things, which should help battle confusion cause honestly I've got shit planned and it may or may not be good. If it starts making things worse, I can just go back in remove them though.
> 
> Also, we're almost at 100 kudos, which is super amazing. AND we're hitting the dramatic get-together. AND we get to see Misha and Hans again. Boy oh boy, what a time to be alive. Expect still slow as shit updates. My eagerness likes to lead into either half-forged ideas or recklessness.
> 
> I would like to personally thank everyone who has left a comment on my work. I don't respond because I suck at taking and replying to compliments, but they really make me proud of my work and sometimes I cry a little bit because I'm a huge baby.
> 
> Enjoy!

August 19th, 1984; 11:28

Jane had assumed Dell knowing about his thoughts would be a comfort, but he found himself antsy and his palms were a bit more sweaty than they normally were. It was hard enough to use crayons; he tended to snap them in half. But the paper stuck to his fingers and that was on top of popping the little wax sticks.

He was blessed that America didn’t mind. She would just look up and send him a reassuring smile.

“Sometimes I break them too. It’s okay. They’re not really like colored pencils. But I like these more ‘cause if you do it right it’s shiny! See?”

It was. He bent the paper gently, the wax creating a gleam. It was a crude picture of Hans. His birds were all perched on his arms like he was a scarecrow. Each dove was shiny and was a different color of the rainbow. Frankly, rainbow doves sounded better than bloody ones.

"This looks good, America." Jane handed the picture back, his praise rewarded with a large smile.

He returned to his drawing. Several raccoons littered around a castle, feasting on fruit and sour cream.

He thought of Merasmus. And of Tom Jones. It was a hard time, then. Having to get the team back together. But he had met Zhanna.

His mind slipped to Misha. What was he going to say to him? Hell, what would he say to any of them? Tavish would welcome him back with open arms, and perhaps Pyro too. Scout would hardly care… Misha and Hans were the only threat then.

Hans would kill him while he slept, and Misha would take America away as next-of-kin.

He could feel the cold metal of the bone saw in his chest. The hooting of birds. Hans, no. Medic. The medic would loom above him, laughing at how he tried to break the straps on the table. And he would cut. And cut.

"Dad?"

He screwed his eyes shut, hands reaching for his ears. Medic laughed so loudly. He was vengeful and would kill him. America would be taking back to Russia-

"Dad."

She'd freeze. She'd get sick like Zhanna and he'd be attending another funeral. They would leave him to die as slowly as they could.

“Dad!”

He looked up, ignoring the sweat sliding down his spine. America gave him a soft smile.

"I'm glad that the bad dream didn't make you sick. Are you getting better?"

Jane swallowed thickly, throat clenching. "Yeah, I am," he lied softly. Was that a bad dream or just a premonition forged of fear?

It was hard to tell anymore. He was always afraid. Nothing was good enough. Too quiet or too loud, too red or too blue. Everything jumbled together and created a sour taste in his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

He wasn't really afraid of Hans. Or at least, he didn't think so. Hans was a good man, even if he was unhinged. Not too different than Jane. Different quirks and styles, but built the same way.

He was shaken from his thoughts, Lawrence's music trailing after the lanky man. He had a radio in his grasp and by grasp, Jane meant dangling by a few fingers.

"Ya like the Steve Miller Band?" He didn't seem to care about who saw the bounce in his step or the way he shuffled around with a stack of boxes.

"It's pretty fun-sounding," Jane admitted. Abracadabra. Whatever that meant.

America was grinning and bobbing her head though. Of course, he would listen closely and look for naughty words, but he had faith Lawrence would be mindful.

"Mind if I borrow the lady? I was told she was gonna help decorate."

America turned to him with owl-like eyes. "Can I help Dad? Please?"

"As long as you promise to be good and listen to Mister Lawrence."

"I promise!" She rushed to get up, Jane reaching across the table in preparation for a trip.

"Aw, ya know she'll be good, mate. I think Dell was lookin' for ya." Lawrence passed his aviators over, chuckling at how they slid down America's button nose and pinched it closed. She slammed them in place, accepting a small string of white lights.

So she wouldn't be flash banged when he plugged them in. Maybe Jane needed to get her a pair. The sun could be quite… present, in Texas.

"Where's Dell then?"

"I think out by his truck still. He wanted to get some chips and stuff." Lawrence shrugged, fighting to untangle the lights. "Oh, an' if ya don't mind, I forgot ta get Lily a new collar."

Jane nodded in understanding, tugging at the tee-shirt he wore. Dell had gotten him several plain, black ones. He just couldn't remember when. Recently.

Slipping from the house proved Lawrence was correct. The engineer was brushing something off the seats of his truck, smiling earnestly as Jane wandered closer.

"Ya up for a trip then? Figured it would be good for ya to get outta the house."

Jane nodded, swiping his hands on his jeans as subtlety as he could. "Shopping isn't too bad."

Dell pulled out smoothly, gaze fixed on the dirt road. "I'm glad the road ain't turn to mud. Truck can take it, but it's sure a pain in the ass to clean."

Jane scoffed. "Moses had one of those low down cars. It would skid when it rained. Tires were the worst I've ever seen."

"Ain't chain 'em during winter did he, huh?"

"Course not," Jane grumbled. "I told him to, but he always said he'd rather take his chance. Something about work leave."

Dell let out a laugh, turning into the small town. Children stood around a dingy school building, throwing water balloons at each other. One popped against Jane's window, the soldier jumping in his seat.

"You alright, pardner?"

Jane nodded and sighed.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah."

"What about?"

You. "Hans and Misha."

Dell scoffed. "They wouldn't do nothin'. Not on my property at least. I told 'em they all gotta behave or they clean up muck."

An effective punishment no doubt.

Jane let out a soft chuckle, eyes scanning over the market parking lot as the truck came to a stop.

"Oh, Lawrence needed a cat collar for Lily."

Dell tsked, shutting the door with a loud clap. "No wonder he was kissin' ass with decorating. Why don’t ya go grab one an’ meet me in the actual grocery part? I’ll just get us started.”

“Sure.” Jane turned to look at the shorter man, his heart quickening just the slightest bit. Friends. They were friends, and he loved him. The sun gave the man the slightest tan and made his grey eyes look even smarter. Like the man knew secrets one could only dream to know. And if asked, Dell probably would share with a song and beer. Perhaps he could convince him to have a bonfire with him? It... didn't have to be a date, but Jane could privately call it that. No one would have to know.

“Jane? Ya ready? Won’t take long, if that’s what you're worried about.”

With a jolt and gulp, he nodded. Of course, he was staring. Jane risked a small peek, relieved that the other man didn’t seem too phased.

Jane ducked away the moment they entered the building, Dell letting out a soft noise of confusion at the sudden escape.

The man needed a moment to scold himself. The pet section would be perfect for that. Staring at him. God, was he stupid? He knew the answer of course, but it wouldn't do him good to sink into self-loathing in public. Later...

He found it quickly, eyes raising at the options. Little fish? No, Lily didn’t seem to eat fish. Wasn’t one with flowers available? Jane had to stop a groan from escaping his lips. There was a collar, yes, but it was for some sort of massive dog. Most of the cat ones were just fish and checkers, and occasionally one with mice would be seen from behind the others.

Cats had personalities. They ranged from asshole to Spy, but it was something other than cute fish and picnic cloth. 

“You vant a collar? Vhat for? Archimedes vill not fit in these!”

Hans. There was no doubt in his mind. There were no other Germans in texas. Or at least none with a playfully vile voice.

Jane felt his blood grow cold. Without a moment's hesitation, he slipped into the next aisle, tiny bells tinkling with a brush of his shoulder. He cursed himself silently, stepping away from the harnesses.

“Lawrence has cat. It loses collar often, yes?”

“Ja, but surely he has hundreds by now? Vhy not something harder to lose? Perhaps a harness?”

“That could work.” Misha rumbled, his voice making Jane’s stomach twist sharply. Why him? Why was it always him?

He had to go. Find Dell. He needed more time. He couldn’t-

Jane inched to the other side of the aisle, listening closely. The steps mixed with his heartbeat, the blood in his ears almost deafening. His head felt light and he was ready to vomit. Deep breathing would be too loud.

He’d rather his father knock his teeth out again.

Jane ducked around again, watching a long, white coat twist away from him; all while he silently pulled a white and pink collar off the metal peg. Like America’s shoes.

He needed to get back to her. He needed at least one more day. Just one more.

“What is cat’s name?”

“Ah, I don’t remember. It almost ate my little baby. Vhy vould I care vhat the hell beast is called?”

“It is for Lawrence. Not cat. He just loves cat.”

“Maybe we should get him a new cat. One that does not eat birds.”

Misha let out a huff. “Lawrence eats birds with cat. Hunting friends. Would eat little dove if it was not yours.”

“Barbaric, really,” Hans replied.

Jane peeked around the aisle, his heart starting to squeeze painfully. Misha and Hans were dressed nicely in simple three-piece suits, several small trinkets and snacks stuffed in a basket. Or at least, Hans had a basket. Misha was forced to hold them in his massive grip.

Why did he have to love a woman whose brother could push Sisyphus’ rock with ease?

“Ah, there was pink one. Lily.”

“Mm, Lily. Such a pretty name for an evil being.”

“Come. On other side.”

Hans and Misha turned away, Jane darting past them. Several cans of wet cat food took a pained plummet with his sloppy steps, the loud noise startling both men behind him.

Ducking into a nearby rack of sport shirts, Jane held his breath.

One, two, three, four, five, six-

He ran like hell was on his heels.

Jane found Dell debating over two types of chips, trembling as he came closer.

“Ya know if America likes green onions? I sure do but I know kids are picky- You alright? Jane, what’s wrong with ya?”

Jane didn’t care. He didn’t want to know what a fucking mess he looked like.

“Nothing. She likes onions. She likes veggies in general.”

“Oh, that’s… good.” Dell tossed the bag in his basket, setting a steady hand on the larger man’s bicep. “Well, I really only needed chips. Everyone normally brings stuff. Or just makes it when they get here. Why don’t we head home and see how well America and Lawrence did.”

“Fairies.”

Dell stopped, turning slowly. “Excuse me?”

“America was making… little fairies earlier. Out of paper. And you had those white lights. It’s gonna look like a fairy… garden.” Jane inhaled slowly, an odd calm finding his heart at Dell’s warm smile.

“And there ain’t a way in hell Lawrence would tell her no, huh?” Dell shook his head. “Well, it’s better than Jeremy’s baseball boogaloo.”

“Really?”

“Ain’t no one watch baseball but him.”

Jane felt himself laugh a bit. “Was it at least fun?”

Dell gave him a sly look. “Fuck no.”

 

August 19th, 1984; 14:12

Dell opened the door, biting his lip with a heavy blush.

Daisy-May sat on the couch, snickering as Lawrence, hunched on the floor, fluttered his lashes on the little mascara brush. America pulled back with a pleased look, grinning widely at Jane.

“Doesn’t Mister Lawrence look pretty, Dad?”

Jane swallowed, eyes falling onto the Sniper’s. Hazel and green had never looked so cold.

“Like a queen.” He spoke slowly, shutting the door behind them.

America pointed to a small fairy made of crayon. “He said he really liked my fairy so I said I could make him look like her.”

“I think I’m a bit too tall ta be a fairy, love,” Lawrence explained, the pleading in his voice evident.

“Everyone can be a fairy!” America protested.

“Well, I think Mister Lawrence is done being a fairy. He has to take care of his kitty, you know.” Jane pulled his daughter away gently, brows raising at the other man’s silent ‘thank you’. He tossed the collar over, Lawrence letting fall against his legs.

“Oh! Sorry, Mister Lawrence. I don’t wanna make Lily mad!”

“Ah, Lily will forgive me for bein’ a bit late.” The lanky man stood, brushing a glittery powder off his collar. With a tip of his hat and a grimacing, pink as hell smile, he retired to his van. Perhaps for a good while.

Jane placed his hands on his hips. “Did you ask Mister Lawrence if he wanted to do that?”

America paused a moment. “Um… no.”

“You need to ask if people want to do those things.” Jane crouched down. “What if he didn’t actually want to be a fairy?”

“Why didn’t he say no?”

Jane licked his lips. “Well, you’re little. He doesn’t want you to be sad. But you don’t want him to be sad either, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So next time, why don’t you find something that you both like.”

“He didn’t like it?”

Jane smiled a bit. “Most men don’t like wearing make-up, kiddo.”

“Oh. Okay.” Her sadness evaporated quickly, the door opening.

“Ah, Dell!” Jane clenched his fists, mouth dry.

“Howdy fellas, come on in!”

“Sorry ve are a little early.” Hans patted the shorter man’s shoulder, his greeting fading off as his gaze found Jane’s.

“Herr Doe.”

Jane looked to Misha, standing and placing a hand on America’s head. Soft. Her hair was always so soft.

“Hans. Misha.”

“Come. We talk outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to state I had wanted to use the radio scene to play Bad Medicine when Hans and Misha came in but that came out in 88. It's a shame too, cause it was gonna be some top tier cheese.
> 
> Sisyphus is the guy that pushes the rock up a mountain only for it to fall back down. Just to save you some time googling it.


End file.
